The Lethal Legion Lasts
by grelber37
Summary: Do you know the Lethal Legion? If so, this Marvel Tale is for you. The story occurs in current times, but it is aimed at the longtime Marvel Maniac, active from the Bronze Age onward. Please note. The LL and associates are from a different era. They ain't the most p.c. art ever created. And, even their threads and words are a wee retro and goofy. I hope that you visit their tale.
1. Chap 1: A Conclusion

**Chapter 1: A Conclusion**

"Any last words?" the nurse asks.

"You should fear me," replies the atrophied, wizened old man in a wheelchair.

"I hear that you were quite a terror back in your day, Laslo," Nurse Adrienne flicks her ID badge far into the salty sea.

"I WAS the Terror," Laslo Pevely proclaims, "And, I used to tear punks like you to pieces—literally."

"Well, we might tear you to pieces tonight," the femme fatale tosses her stethoscope.

The ersatz RN removes her scrub top. Apparently, the aspiring assassin does not intend to keep her shirt on. Exposed, Adrienne displays her stark alabaster skin and skimpy obsidian bra. Strangely, she has pinkish paint over her face and arms. However, old dick Laslo figures that she disguised her shockingly chalky appearance while preparing to kidnap him. Otherwise, the killer's cadaverous appearance catches too much attention at Mystic Meadows nursing home in Mystic, Connecticut.

Nurse "Adrienne" kicks free of her pants and shoes, and Laslo's hoary brows rise at the sight. Nekra stands revealed to the Terror in the midnight air, although the golden age hero does not know her. The strange vamp sucks the seabreeze sharply into her taut bosom, and the chilly maritime air warms her cold heart. She smiles her fanged smile at her prey.

Nekra declares, "I won't be the one to slaughter you and tear you to pieces. My job was simply to infiltrate the nursing home and to bring you here to the boys. I did my job. Now, this girl need only to clean-up after work." The she-beast sashays to the dock's edge, and she kneels over, her hindquarters high. The brine begins to remove the paint.

"I might tear you to pieces," M'Baku interjects. The massive man stands some distance from the centenarian. Some call M'Baku the Man-Ape; he stands seven-foot and 355 pounds. He can lift ten tons and flatten the Black Panther.

"I know She-Hulk! I know the Watchers! I know Howard the Duck!" Pevely proclaims, "My allies could tear you to pieces!"

M'Baku chortles, "Howard the Duck could tear apart the Man-Ape?" The Wakandan outlaw uses his outdated appellative.

"And, who are the Watchers? I've never seen them," kneeling Nekra razzes over her shoulder.

"And, we the Lethal Legion certainly do not fear an Avenger, a Hulk or not," intones the Grim Reaper at the old man's side.

Suddenly, an Atlantic swell arrives from nowhere. The surprise wave drenches the dock and those on it. Expressionless Reaper reacts not at all, nor does M'Baku mind his unanticipated bath. Terror titters amused in the unexpected spray. Nekra, however, is knocked hard aback and sprawled supine by the swift surge that slams her across the deck. The salty spritz subsides. And, Nekra looks silly. Snarling, she replaces her askew bra over bared breast. Sitting up, Nekra seizes sea lettuce from her hair and blows bilge from her nose. Standing, the Priestess of Hate harangues the Seven Seas sevenfold while stomping her furious feet in puddled brine. Shaking, she slaps off sediment and slime from her snow-white skin.

From the side, a chafing chuckle invades Nekra's ears. "Drown, you rat," the Terror tells his traitorous caregiver with a rasping guffaw.

Eric Williams contemptuously slaps elderly Laslo. The Grim Reaper declares, "Pevely, you gone geezer, one person whom I can't stand in life is the deluded hero. I hate the so-called hero who believes himself somehow better than I. My brother Simon, a.k.a. Wonder Man, had such contempt for others. The Lethal Legion tried killing him many times."

"Did they ever succeed?" the Terror interrogates.

"Yes! Sometimes," Grim Reaper will not be impugned and undercut.

"Oh," Laslo Pevely smirks.

Grim Reaper stares down the Terror, "My point is that this job will be good for the soul as well as the strongbox."

"Who hired you clowns to kidnap and kill me anyway?" the Golden Age sleuth wants to know.

"An old enemy of yours who has really exotic tastes in how you should suffer. In fact, the crazy old coot originally was going to hire Tiger Shark to rip you to shreds right off this pier. He prattled about poetic justice when hiring me. Apparently, a monster like the Terror deserves a Tiger Shark dismembering him as you often mauled others," Grim Reaper answers, "But, my benefactor decided that a man in a Grim Reaper costume would make for an artful enough execution."

"Hmph. Someone has a grudge after all of these years," the Golden Age hero speculates, "Have the Nazis finally gotten me?"

"Dummy, three of the Lethal Legion—M'Baku, Nekra, and Black Talon—are black," the Lethal leader notes, "We would not be working with supremacists."

"I see," Laslo nods, "You would associate with a better class of scumbag."

Undead Grim Reaper responds to the insult coldly, without rage. He simply extends his scythe arm into a straight blade and says, "Go associate with the sea-scum off shore, poor Pevely."

Sans ceremony, the supervillain stabs the invalid elder through the chest. The grand hero's death is undignified. Momentarily, blood squirts from the old dog's gasping mouth. Momentarily, M'Baku punts the expiring Terror and his wheelchair far into Long Island Sound. The mouth of the Mystic River swallows the surely deceased do-gooder with a splash far off Masons Island Yacht Club.

A wee farther out to sea, nightvision lens behold the plunk. Binoculars lower. And, Mandrill grabs scuba equipment from the bottom of his boat. His hairy form dives into the water. Searching for Laslo Pevely, Jerome Beechman considers how forever painful it is to see Eric Williams and Nekra Sinclair together. Nekra used to be jealous Mandrill's moll.

A little in-land, Black Talon sits at the wheel of an inconspicuous van. He watches the Lethal Legion approach him under the waning crescent. A silvery scythe glints in the gloom after their dirty deed. Behind Black Talon, there is a whole pallet of cash. The blood money looks a rich crimson in the moonlight.


	2. Chap 2: Means and Ends

**Chapter 2: Means and Ends**

"Who did we just kill?" asks M'Baku casually.

The Grim Reaper narrates, "Many decades ago, Laslo Pevely crashed his roadster off the road one rainy night. He was discovered by mad scientist Dr. John Storm."

"John Storm? Any relation to the Human Torch?" Nekra inquires.

"I don't f***ing know. Could be his grandfather. Could be nobody. Could be a monkey's uncle," Reaper rejoins.

"Oh," Nekra replies.

Eric Williams continues, "Anyway, Dr. Storm transfused the accident victim with a serum derived from the brain of a mad dog."

"Did Pevely have powers like Mad-Dog, the Hellcat foil?" Man-Ape interrupts.

"I don't f***ing know," Eric snaps, "He sort of did. The Terror had enhanced strength, speed, stamina, and reflexes, and he kind of had the mad-dog disposition to match."

"Oh? How's that?" M'Baku inquires.

"Well, Pevely became a Terror to the hoodlums and Nazis of the time, and he tore them apart like a beast. Sometimes, he slaughtered them. Sometimes, he left them alive but mangled," Grim Reaper answers.

"Terror had one exploit in the modern era, did he not?" Nekra interjects.

Reaper readies to reply.

M'Baku obtrudes, "Yeah, before his departure, Pevely mentioned She-Hulk and Howard the Duck."

"Yes! Laslo mentioned a Watcher as well!" Eric blurts back at both.

Curtly, he continues, "A cosmic crisis occurred, and an atypical socially-active Watcher called the Critic recruited forces to combat this 'Cosmic Squish' disaster." Grim Reaper has but one hand, and he does his air-quotes with but it. Mean-spirited M'Baku and Nekra giggle at his disability.

Lethal leader continues some more, "The Critic came upon Pevely convalescing in Mystic Meadows nursing home. Together, they battled a 'Band of the Bland' causing the crisis [see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #15-17]."

Nekra is further amused, "The Band of the Bland are Howard the Duck foes!"

"Yes. How did you know that?" Reaper wonders.

"Well, Floyd Mangles—a.k.a. Dr. Angst—did time at the same Masschusetts prison that I once did. Dr. Angst leads the Band of the Bland," Nekra recounts, "He and I chatted at a prison dance while enjoying the mighty liberal Bay State penal arrangements."

"I hope that you did not enjoy the penal arrangements too much," says envious Eric to his Nekra.

M'Baku whacks Williams' back. M'Baku kids, "Oh, don't be so grim, Reaper. Angst and Nekra could not have gotten serious. Howard the Duck's rogues are generally silly situations living in silly situations."

"Says the man in the gorilla costume," Eric thinks to himself.

The Lethal leader replies aloud, "Tell that to Band member Sitting Bullseye. Terror tore into him something good. After the first aid, Sitting Bullseye looked like a teepeed tree."

M'Baku guffaws in Eric's face, "There's a 'super' villain dubbed Sitting Bullseye?! Ah s***! I did not know that s***! Haw-haw-haw!"

The terrible trio has reached at the van in which the fourth Lethal Legion member guards the blood booty for their witching-hour work. Within, Black Talon startles when the van's aft squeaks open abruptly. It is only the Grim Reaper who has snuck-up on him. The spook stands silhouetted in the eerie illumination of the moon.

"Samuel Barone," the Grim Reaper calls Black Talon's name, "It is time for our just rewards." The scythe-wielder points to the ill-gotten gains.

The low pallet of greenbacks is a great and odd mix of denominations. Both Ben Franklin and U.S. Grant look back at the Lethal Legion, and both Washington and Hamilton do too. And, if one inspected them, the bills are from a variety of decades, and the "dead presidents" are in a variety of conditions.

"Can you believe this s***? The money is as old as the men f***ing on it," quips Nekra cutely.

"Yeah, that money is in fugly," Talon assesses aesthetics, "But, it is beautifully mixed and, therefore, untraceable."

"Who the f*** hired you, Eric?" M'Baku inquires, "A kid with a really large piggy bank?"

"Our benefactor is much older than a child," Grim Reaper informs, "But, you guys do not need to know his exact identity. Having commissioned a murder, he wishes to remain somewhat anonymous."

"You can't hide secrets from us," the wily Wakandan winks, "I thought that the Lethal Legion was a team."

"We are," Grim Reaper pats the pallet of payment, "That is why I included you in this job. The solicitor to murder only hired me, but I wanted to include my partners-in-crime."

"Why?" Samuel asks, "Were you worried that the old Terror might terrorize you?" Black Talon has seen the dead come to life before.

Reaper shakes his head, "Nah. It's just that I'm undead. I don't eat or do a lot of other s***. I wander the Earth like the damned except when I find a hidey-hole to chill in for a while. A dead man does not use much money. You might be surprised."

"Zombies do lead simple lives," the voodoo priest notes grinning.

"However, zombies' houngans needn't be so austere, so let us cut this money four ways before going our separate ways," Grim Reaper directs.

"That is fine by me," M'Baku cuts before his director, "I am best able to carry five hundred pounds, a quarter of these bills."

"I have incredible strength too when I get angry enough," Nekra reminds M'Baku of her similar might.

The big man pats her head patronizingly without a word.

"And, I am getting mad enough to do so," Nekra snarls.

Having rattled Nekra, smiling M'Baku silently rattles loose an aluminum tote from a pile in the van. His huge hands and arms scoop money into the big box. Then, the murderous marauder, who recently slew an old man, hefts the booty upon his big shoulder, and he strides up the shore to some illicit vessel hidden in the ebon early morn.

Grim Reaper informs Black Talon, "You need not drive our Wakandan friend to the airport. Black Panther's security ever tracks him, especially at airports. Man-Ape prefers to leave Connecticut by boat. Fortunately, a Masons Island Yacht Club member has agreed to some late-night sailing."

"Which member?" Nekra is nosy. Perhaps, a good bad guy is a snoop.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know," Eric Williams states, "We 'supervillains' work in the shadows. I don't need to know everything about everyone's plans. For example, I don't know where Black Talon and you now flee to, and you don't know where I head. By not knowing, no one gives up squat in possible SHIELD interrogation later."

Nekra kisses her beau's cheek, "You may know where I am going, dear. I go to Staten Island before fleeing to the Florida Keys. Meet me in Key West soon. From there, we can fly to Haiti and live like kings. Haiti has only one superhero."

Black Talon warns, "That lone hero is Brother Voodoo, a better practitioner of voodoo than you two. He is even a former Sorcerer Supreme of all of Earth."

Grim Reaper ignores Black Talon. Eric returns Nekra's kiss. His caressing hand guides her to the van back, "Please take my gift to you. You did a lovely job of fooling Laslo Pevely, kidnapping him, and delivering the old fellow to his unnatural death."

"Why thank you," Nekra takes a tote and crams it with cash. Without, the murderess beams at her beau while her heart swells within. She is giddy while greedily getting the gift that wrath won her.

The girl beseeches her boy, "I want to see you off, honey. How are you escaping?"

"I suppose that I could show you," Grim Reaper grants. Nekra's affection has affected Grim Reaper's grinchy heart.

Grim Reaper deposits deniro into a plastic bag lining the remaining steel crate. He wishes to waterproof the precious paper.

Of course, the scary supervillain has only but one hand. One hand is an armament. So, Nekra assists her man in packing his plunder. The femme fatale's bare foot plays along his calf as they collaborate.

Looking on, Black Talon grows impatient, "Hurry up, you two. I need to get the chalky cheri to Kingpin's Staten Island airstrip soon so that I can get the hell out of the New York metro myself."

"Do you wish to beat morning rush hour too?" Grim Reaper jokes.

Nervous Sam Barone shakes his head, "Yeah sure, that too."

The chicken villain in the rooster mask runs to New Orleans after this New York job, and he wants to get home at some point. Like M'Baku, Samuel Barone is a wanted man who cannot simply board a commercial flight. Thus, he need get his ass and van hightailing out of Fun City and onto I-95 toward Philadelphia. In the City of Brotherly Love, criminal colleagues can provide an inconspicuous car to continue southward. The van is on Connecticut surveillance.

Looking on, Black Talon watches Grim Reaper stride back down the pier to the edge. Nekra tramps with him. Then, Reaper drops into the water. Nekra watches the wraith walk along the bottom until the dark waters under the dead of night obscure her lover from her sight. Nekra sighs. Then, she sprints back to Black Talon and gets on with her getaway.

A piece northeast, M'Baku arrives at his escape craft too. He greets the boat captain, "Good morning, Minnie. Permission to come abroad?"

"Permission granted," Minerva Tuttle takes the known offender's hand as though to guide him. But, she instead lightly kisses his opisthenar. Big M'Baku gives the middle-aged woman an odd look.


	3. Chap 3: Grim Reaper's Tale

**Chapter 3: Grim Reaper's Tale**

Dog sharks flit about Grim Reaper as he trudges through the silt off the shore after his dirty deed. Behind him, he drags five hundred pounds of filthy lucre through the muck. Ahead of him, Reaper's artificial arm illuminates the dark depths in his path, for he has "ingeniously" attached a lamp to the limb. Above him, the undead man breathes no bubbles into the five ocean fathoms overhead. Before him, an underwater lair lies nine miles away. That distance would be a hike, but the criminal mastermind has a plan. Grim Reaper plans to point himself in a certain vector, stick his blade behind his butt, and propel himself swiftly forward on the spinning device. How nice.

A wee away, Mandrill watches Grim Reaper's light progress through the shallows. Mandrill respires excitedly into his scuba gear. He would love to go ape on his nemesis, but the simian scrapper quashes his savage urges for now. Jerome Beechman has a better revenge than a beating in mind.

Mandrill holds the Terror close to his vest. Elderly Laslo Pevely sways deceased in Mandrill's arms and in the sea's oscillations. The monkey mug was unable to reach good Laslo in time. Thus, Laslo Pevely is dead. However, Mandrill has still plans for him, so he will be keeping the corpse—for a revenge best served cold. Abiding afar from Grim Reaper, Mandrill watches Reaper's light suddenly swish about crazily for some reason. Then, the Lethal light simply ceases.

Over yon, Grim Reaper cleaves lobster traps from their moorings and trapped lobsters in twain. The petty maniac merely wishes to pettily ruin some Connecticut fishermen's mornings and to maniacally slaughter some little creatures not harming him. Decompressing after Laslo's hit, the Lethal lug laughs and lops and giggles and grins. Before abruptly frowning. The carnage has attracted the circling dog sharks, which are scavengers. Grim Reaper decides to take his animated dead carcass away.

The spinning scythe propels a body through the black brine at an insanely high rate of speed. At any moment, underwater obstacles could destroy Grim Reaper during his twenty-minute journey out to sea. Lamp now attached to brow, the revenant whizzes yards beneath boats overhead, feet from flotsam and jetsam, and inches from rocky reefs that could rip him apart. Reaper plows pell-mell through fields of sharp eel grass, and he shoots narrow craggy passes at full speed. With crazed expression, Grim Reaper cares not whether he lives or dies.

Eric Williams has led a good life for a wicked man. He has defeated the Avengers many times, and he has cheated death on multiple occasions. He has resurrected and led the Lethal Legion again-and-again to terrorize the world. The sinner is an accomplished man. So, in his off mind, the cursed man can continue to live, or he can finally meet his fate. Grim Reaper has mixed feelings.

Before him, the headlamp reflects on lustrous steel. Grim Reaper has reached his final destination. But, it is not some random decrepit shipwreck off the coast. Rather, it is a different kind of hulk. Before Grim Reaper lies the late Commander Kraken's last vessel, and it is a submarine left preserved on the shelf of Block Island Sound. Years ago, Kraken parked himself here. The pirate was sick of encountering the likes of Sub-Mariner and Iron Man and encountering defeat soon after. He wanted some success in his nefarious career. So, he sailed away from New York City, superhero central, toward Providence. The swabby scoundrel planned to raid Rhode Island and perhaps maraud Massachusetts. There are few superheroes in New England.

However, Gary Gilbert, fellow freebooter Firebrand, then contacted Commander Kraken and told him to visit Ohio immediately. Someone had been offing small-time supervillains. . . . . The rest is infamous history. The vigilante Scourge had been killing all of Gilbert and Kraken's friends, and he assassinated the Commander and Firebrand too. No longer employed, a former Kraken henchman sold Grim Reaper the information about this ship.

Grim Reaper approaches the submersible half-covered in sediment and seaweed. Crabs scramble upon the soil and steel. Scythe aimed, the Grim Reaper shoots them for fun.

Once inside, Eric Williams walks the entire length of the ship. Internal lights automatically activate, revealing no intruders. Grim Reaper drops the money tote dragging behind him. His loot is safe. He lets his artificial limb clatter upon the iron floor. He is safe from invaders. The Reaper mask even comes off. Momentarily, Eric Williams examines his pallid face and bloodless eyes in a mirror in a water closet that a zombie need not use (except to occasionally eliminate necrotic goo, accompanied by marsh gas, from his rotten guts).

The mirror shows Grim Reaper a man much like Commander Kraken, the old master of this isolated abode. Like Kraken, Eric Williams is dead—and dead several times over. Sub-Mariner and Iron Man seemingly got Kraken once each—before the Scourge of the Underworld seemingly succeeded. Likewise, Eric "the Grim Reaper" Williams has been killed several times by several parties by several methods. Afterwards, "allies" Nekra and Black Talon always pull him back from his eternal slumber so that he might "live", exist, as an abomination. Sometimes, Williams is a zombie slave to some master. Sometimes, he is a ravenous zombie who must feed on the living to survive. Either way, he does not know the peace and release of death.

Grim Reaper strokes the skull and crossbones on his chest. Like Kraken, Eric Williams is not only a dead man but also a dead man from a dead era. Time has passed by any serious villain masquerading as a privateer or the Grim Reaper with such pageantry. With temporary disgust, Williams flings his purple cape from his person. Hastily, he moves on from the mirror.

Down the hall, Eric sits himself in the captain's chair before the communication equipment. An old computer monitor is another dark mirror. In morose reflection, Reaper collects his thoughts in this submarine like a tomb, enclosed by solid ocean and thick with grave silence. The heavy broods. Eric Williams ponders whether he wants to be alive or dead. He is not sure.

On one hand, Grim Reaper has accomplished wonders in his day, including conquering his powerhouse brother Wonder Man. Evil Eric Williams has confronted the Mighty Thor, combatted Black Panther, captured Black Knight, kidnapped Tigra, cut Swordsman to the quick, curtailed Quicksilver, "crushed" Ant-Man and Wasp, clobbered the Thing (tried to), confounded Hawkeye, challenged Captain America, and mind-controlled Dr. Druid. He has subdued Vision and the Scarlet Witch several times. He has even slain X-Man Rogue (she got better) and ally Nekra (she got better) plus hundreds of non-powered, non-heroic "nobodies".

On the other hand, the Grim Reaper identity has cost Eric Williams his own life. Sometimes, someone such as demon Lloigorath or Green Goblin literally kills him. Sometimes, Eric realizes that his brother Simon hates him, and he ends his own life. Sometimes, someone such as Vision or Captain America sends him to rot in prison. Sometimes, someone sinister such as Chaos King or Mephisto enslaves him as a zombie after Black Talon or lover Nekra cruelly disturbs his eternal slumber. Always, life as an abomination is essentially cursed. For example, a living dead man can never quite feel anything (with his remaining hand, after Ultron took one) or smell anything or taste anything. He cannot smell the preserved tobacco or taste the canned meat that Commander Kraken left behind. And, Eric Williams terribly misses such sensation and experience.

However, fortunately, the Grim Reaper has found other old "treasures" in this place to appreciate. One item in particular has proven especially intriguing. In Kraken's submerged hulk, Grim Reaper has found a lacquered wooden box about sixteen inches by sixteen by twelve. On the coffer, a tarnished silvery hasp hangs lockless. In the coffer, Grim Reaper has found curious things.

Upon opening the chest, one finds an old photo atop the other contents. The picture is from when color photography first became widely available to the general public. The tints suggest a photo from around the time that Reed Richards and his three fellows made their historic flight.

Incredibly, Bruce Banner is in the image, but it is from his much younger days. Grim Reaper would guess that the famous Dr. Banner is perhaps in his mid-twenties as the bespectacled, gaunt man offers a sheepish half-smile while standing in a lightweight dress shirt and bermudas on a beach with the ocean in the background. Over Banner's shoulder, the Santa Monica Pier stands. The young genius stands in Los Angeles.

Beside Banner, a slight teenaged girl has a huge smile as her thin arm drapes Bruce's back. The brown-haired lass wears a one-piece white bathing suit and holds a purple Frisbee. She seems joyful, jolly, and unjaded. On the photo's flip side, the inscription reads "My new friends, Bruce and Jen". Williams wonders whether or not Jen may be Jen Walters, Bruce's cousin. The young lady looks like her.

Beneath the photo, there are two intriguing items side-by-side. One is an old camera, the type using film. For a musing moment, Eric Williams strokes the camera's leathered exterior with his cold numb fingers, and he ponders past times. Williams remembers this brand of camera. Back in the day, it was a nice one and cost a pretty penny. Eric even bought one with his first money from the mob. That purchase was shortly before he became the Grim Reaper. Grim Reaper doubts that this is his camera though. On its bottom, "Merry Christmas, Charlie" is etched. Eric wonders if there is any undeveloped film within the artifact, but the counter doesn't indicate any.

Beside the camera, there lies a different device for shooting people. And, it is a beautiful pistol waiting for someone to handle it. Grim Reaper takes it up and admires. The weight and balance are lovely. The action and clip slide easily after what are likely years of disuse. The clip contains shiny, expensive silver bullets, of all things. The firearm appears perfectly sighted. Impressed, Williams returns the weapon to a holster of fine horsehide.

At the box's bottom, a silver mask stares back at whoever finds it. Eric's left hand hefts the metallic mask to his eye level. The silver disguise resembles Madame Masque's golden mask, but the features are probably male. They look familiar somehow. But, veteran villain Grim Reaper has met many eccentrics wearing expensive accoutrement over the years. And, he cannot quite place the face.

Grim Reaper places the silver mask on the steel counter before him. Peripherally, he is surprised to notice one more thing from the box. Perhaps, it fell-off some item when he removed it. On the floor, there is a manila tag with a printed inventory number and a handwritten notation "Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner". Well, the Banner photo appears to be southern California, so the box's contents are perhaps connected.

Grim Reaper returns the treasures to their chest. They are fine curiosities to pass the time, but the Grim Reaper is a serious man. For right now, the career criminal had better contact Mr. Z, his employer. The bloodthirsty benefactor deserves to know that Laslo Pevely's murder went well. Possibly, the old schemer will be so pleased with the results that he hires Grim Reaper for further work. If he does not, Grim Reaper could always rob ancient Z's mansion. Eric spotted a lot of neat stuff there when he took the job.

BEEEEEP! Suddenly, the sub's communicator sounds, shattering the silence and startling Reaper from his reverie. Eric looks at the communication station's monitor. Curiously, the caller is Mr. Z's granddaughter Minnie. With his one hand, Williams scratches his chin. One supposes that Minnie might aid the old man in his underground endeavors, but one also supposes that mastermind Z would strictly handle his own affairs.

Grim Reaper activates the outdated video console in Kraken's 1980s secret lair. Williams grabs a microphone on a cord, and he activates the staticky audio speakers. The video feed is also not the best quality, for lacking modern resolution. But, Grim Reaper is positive that he is not looking upon pretty Ms. Minnie Tuttle. Rather, to his surprise, Man-Ape M'Baku glares back at him.

The Lethal Legion leader recovers composure quickly. He inquires, "My good M'Baku, what are you doing with our employer? I see that you somehow know our mysterious benefactors the Tuttles."

"I know a lot of things, Eric," the Legion's muscle assures the Legion's brains, "For example, I know one of the 'hidey-holes' that you mentioned on the dock earlier after we eliminated the Terror."

Grim Reaper nods, "True, I said that the damned find places to repose."

"Well, that hidey-hole could be your final resting place," the gorilla-man grins.

"Oh? How's that?" Reaper responds concerned.

"Do you remember your racist tirade that caused Black Talon and I to leave the Lethal Legion that one time [see _West Coast Avengers_ #2]?"

"Vaguely, boy."

"Well, I do."

Grim Reaper shoots his gaze toward his detached artificial appendage. He thinks that he really should reattach it immediately and find an escape hatch right quick.

M'Baku states, "I doubt that you will survive the explosives set around your safehouse."

"I'm going to kill you, traitor," Grim Reaper replies. He rushes for his weaponized trademark. Grim Reaper must hurry if he would again cheat Death.

From the console, the wily Wakandan continues to speak, "You won't be killing me. I won't be joining you in the depths. I am two miles northwest of you and two-hundred feet above. And, in seconds, I will be indeed above you in the Lethal Legion as well. I am taking over, Eric."

Grim Reaper affixes his master weapon. The Lethal leader "cleverly" threatens, "If you only knew what I shall do about your coup, zoo-crew M'Baku!" Then, Eric realizes that his thumb is not on the dated communication station's microphone's button. So, mutinous M'Baku did not just hear his "witty" retort.

M'Baku presses a button on his modern laptop's keyboard. As a cellphone can, the computer sends a signal to explosives—rigged around Kraken's submarine. The tremendous explosion sprays steel and truck widespread over the seafloor. It craters the pappy muck and blows ooze upward and all-around. The bombing blasts brine high into the early-morning black sky. The turbulent detonation dismembers flesh and destroys costume. Vicinal dog sharks flit toward the resounding vibrations to investigate—and to possibly scavenge.

"Now, that is gorilla warfare," Man-Ape chuckles to himself, safe on his host's yacht.

Middle-aged Minnie Tuttle pecks M'Baku's cheek, "I thought that you were the more capable Lethal Legion member. You have proven it. That Grim Reaper fellow seemed small compared to my M'Baku."

M'Baku runs his huge hand gently up-and-down Minnie's back. He does not love her or even like her. But, the deft desperado is willing to have her as his pet. And, to have her think that he is hers. His huge hand guides her outside the yacht's cabin and walks her in the moonlight to the boat's bobbing bow. With seemingly spontaneity, he scoops her off of her feet, and he kisses her with relish and seeming passion. He returns her trembling to the deck.

Minnie Tuttle exhales. She speaks, "How would you like to meet my father? You have not been to the Tuttle estate yet as Williams was."

M'Baku smirks. He says, "Indeed, I would like that, my Minnie. I am taking over for the late Reaper." Shark fins swiftly pass the starboard.

"Let us make it to breakfast then," Minnie moves to steer the craft. Smirking, she believes that tall, dark, and handsome is hers.


	4. Chap 4: Shakma, Mama?

**Chapter 4: Shakma, Mama?**

"Didn't I kick your ass once?" Patsy Walker asks her guest.

Mandrill examines the feet that Hellcat has on She-Hulk's desk. "You defeated me on a number of occasions. I admit," Mandrill admits, "Often, Ms. Walters' cousin assisted you."

She-Hulk snickers, "Good, we Hulks specialize in smashing supervillains." The heroine leans back in her big leather chair behind her oaken desk.

"Actually, the one time that we tangled, I hornswoggled you, She-Hulk [see _She-Hulk_ #5]," Mandrill leans on in and winks

A gloating green grin abates a wee, "I hope—for your sake—you do not mean that you tried your female-controlling pheromones upon me."

The villain promptly grants, "I doubt that they would work. At least, they are not apparently working right now. You ladies do not seem enamored with me."

Jen snickers again, "Trust me. You are doing nothing for me, ugly."

Patsy breaks in, "Trust me too, you baboon. You have no sway on me. Thanks to Richmond Enterprises, I acquired a device long ago that halts your influence over me or any other woman [see _Defenders_ #91] and that turns you impotent. Your sleazy powers do not work here."

Jen adds, "And, may I add. Your sleazy moniker is likewise lame. 'Man-drill' is a gross double-entendre, considering your abilities." The lawyer laughs hard at the hirsute cad.

Patsy laughs too, "Although you are kind of a d***!"

Morosely, Mandrill mutters, "I can't help who I am. These are just my mutant gifts." He really hates when women humiliate him. Normally, Mandrill is the one owning them.

A hulkish hand hammers the desk hard. The noise shocks the "monkey" to attention. Attorney Walters asks, "Anyway, what made you make an appointment, Mr. Beechman?"

"Besides that you wish for two Avengers to handle your outstanding warrants," Hellcat mocks.

The kitty is very curious why a wanted felon would bring himself into a Brooklyn building occupied by super-heroes. At 68 Jay Street, She-Hulk runs a law firm, and Hellcat is her legal investigator. At 68 Jay Street, Howard the Duck and Spider-Woman have private investigators offices down the hall. At 68 Jay Street, less-noted powered people assist the four famous superhumans mentioned. A former X-Man is the landlady. Captain America sometimes visits.

The current visitor points his sharp, hard fingernail at a file upon Jen Walters' desk. "You handle presently the Laslo Pevely probate," states Mandrill.

She-Hulk is impressed. Apparently, this baboon is not a jackanapes. "How did you know that?" she inquires, "Are you after some probate inheritance? Rest assured. The honorable Mr. Pevely utterly ignored the likes of you in his will."

"I am sure that the esteemed Terror did neglect an infamous terrorist," Mandrill reveals that he knows Pevely well, "I am sure that he left me no gift. But, I will deliver him one in the afterlife."

"Come again?" the solicitor solicits.

"I know who murdered your comrade," Mandrill clarifies.

"Laslo Pevely's death was a homicide," She-Hulk confirms, "His body washed ashore at Mystic, Connecticut, after someone cruelly impaled the elderly man through the torso before casting him into the water to die of a sucking chest wound."

"I know. It was I who brought him gently ashore after his fatal ordeal," Mandrill retrieves a file from his cape.

"Who killed him?" She-Hulk demands. Within her, a savage side stirs as it does when angry or outraged.

"The Grim Reaper," Mandrill answers. The misogynistic malcontent enjoys toying with the heroine for a mere moment. Of course, Death killed Pevely. Jerome Beechman smirks.

However, Jen Walters is a sharp gal. She asks, "Did the Lethal Legion do the deed? Is that what you are saying?"

Mandrill's smirk fades. "Yes," he answers.

Hellcat nimbly snatches the felon's file from him. She flips fast through the photos therein. "You surveilled the Lethal Legion," she says, "You photographed the murder. Afterward, you photographed the body on the beach."

She-Hulk eyes the death picture. Her gaze narrows, "Why would you photo poor Mr. Pevely afterwards?" The Jade Giantess abruptly stands.

"I needed as much evidence as possible that I was there," Mandrill answers, "I want to sic the Avengers on the Lethal Legion."

"What you did was obscene!" the irked Avenger growls,

A furious fist slugs furry fiend off the opposite wall. She-Hulk stomps toward Mandrill. Jen Walters will not have Laslo Pevely's memory desecrated by anyone, whether the Lethal Legion or the Mandrill. The Terror helped her save the world once, and Laslo came to her subsequently to set-up his postmortem legal needs. He was a good man and a distinguished champion. Advocate Walters is willing to avenge him for the smallest slight, especially in the absence of the real guilty parties Grim Reaper and his gang.

Mandrill rises wobbly. He angrily announces, "I could take-down both you bitches!"

Patsy scoffs, "Baboon, you could not take-out Howard the Duck who works down the hallway."

"Hey, Howard is a scrappy and capable little guy," notes Jen.

"Howard the Duck could defeat the Mandrill?" Mandrill chuckles. Mandrill mimics Man-Ape without even knowing it.

"Howard the Duck would make you his pet," She-Hulk pronounces.

The simian supervillain snarls back, "His goose would be cooked! Should we ever fight."

"Mandrill, Ms. Lion could lick you in a fight," She-Hulk sneers, "You are pathetic. You are nothing but an enslaver of women, which I can't stand, and a terrorist traitor to your country, which I can't stand, and an exploiter of the honored dead such as Laslo Pevely, which I can't stand."

"You can't stand women, the United States, and the Terror?" the criminal injudiciously wisecracks.

An angry finger pecks Mandrill's pectorals painfully, "Right now, _you_ are only _standing_ because I need a question answered."

"What's your question?" the umbraged ape asks the green gorilla.

"Do you know where the Lethal Legion went?" the amazon asks in return.

Mandrill details, "Through lenses, I observed them split-up after their dirty deed. And, oddly enough, my rival Grim Reaper decided to come toward me. After the murder, the undead ugly did a zombie walk off the pier into Long Island Sound, and he kept walking along the bottom toward the southeast. He walked past dear, departed Laslo and me as I held the august, assassinated adventurer in my arms underwater. I wanted to make sure that the grand guardian got a proper burial on shore instead of an unceremonious one at sea."

"Bulls***," attorney Avenger ineloquently retorts, "You just said that the body served other purposes."

Indignant ebon eyes glare into emerald ones one foot overhead. Master Mandrill will not have a female browbeat him. He squares his shoulders aggressively. Shulkie steps-back suddenly. She smashes Mandrill's mandible, his jaw. Jerome Beechman drops like a socked, shocked shakma—unconscious.

"Out of sight!" Patsy pipes, "I ever enjoy seeing a Hulk manhandle the Mandrill, especially a She-Hulk."

She-Hulk smacks five fervently, "We Lady Liberators aim to please the lasses."

Patsy shakes her stunned appendage. She suggests, "We need to split-up in pursuit of the four Lethal Legionnaires. With luck, Grim Reaper and Nekra will be on the lam together. However, M'Baku and Black Talon could be anywhere else."

"Black Talon will be in New Orleans. He is always in New Orleans. That is a big easy," She-Hulk states, "I have even fought him there once [see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #34-35]."

"I would not mind the sleuthing being that simple," Hellcat states, "I would not mind taking Jubilee, from my Ideahive agency, down south to create some fireworks." The Ideahive is another name for the 68 Jay Street community.

Jennifer courtesy laughs at Patricia's pun. The lawyer is about to reply—when someone raps rapidly at the office door.

"Jen and Patsy," Jessica Drew calls, "Is everything okay in there? I heard a commotion like somebody hit a wall."

Immediately, She-Hulk opens the entrance for her ally. "Spider-Woman!" she calls her friend by name, "How would you like to help in an investigation and manhunt?"

Drew's digit points backward, "Well, I do have a p.i. bureau down the hall, so one supposes that I am in."

An hour later, Mandrill departs as the three women watch. Green-armored Guardsmen guide Mandrill in manacles to a transport that will soon take-off skyward for the Raft. The trio take-in the scene and smirk at their success at nabbing a wanted man. Mandrill stares back and, strangely, smiles back. Supervillains ever think that they have something up their sleeve for subsequent sorties. Perhaps, the manacled Mandrill does, and perhaps he does not.

In the vicinity, dead eyes observe the fink being taken to his fate. In a parked sedan, a cold hand strokes the two-foot steely scythe riding shotgun. The driver studies the three Avengers standing smugly as their enemy departs. He sees them, but they do not see him. He considers a surprise attack. He could quickly cut-down his bestial nemesis and, perhaps, even cleverly escape somehow. However, three Guardsmen and three Avengers is some sum of opposition to circumvent. So, the dead eyes decide to just watch for now and to make dark plans for later.

Back in the huddle, Jessica turns to Jen. "Oh, I almost forgot," she offers an envelope, "A mailing came to my office instead of yours."

Jen takes from Jessica. The envelope has a return address of the _Daily Bugle_ , and its postmark is appropriately Midtown. The dispatch's addressee is Jessica Drew, who apparently opened it already. She-Hulk simply dumps the contents forth. There is no letter, only a photo. The Jade Giantess ganders and gasps.

"Do you know how ancient this is?!" Jen exclaims.

"I thought that that was you in the pic," detective Drew comments.

She-Hulk shows the print to her girlfriends. Both Jen and her cousin Bruce are in what must be a very dated snapshot. She shares, "This photo is so ancient that Bruce Banner had not even met Betty Ross yet. He had not even had his fateful mishap with Rick Jones. In fact, this photo is from slightly before all of that tale to astonish. In fact, it even slightly predates my good friends the Fantastic Four going into space."

"Who took the still?" Patsy Walker wonders.

Jen Walters flips the photo, "There is no inscription, and I forget who took it. I shall have to recollect that day at Santa Monica Beach."

Other investigation occupies She-Hulk and her amazing friends' mutual time in the immediate future. For example, Spider-Woman and her amazing friends research M'Baku's whereabouts. Wakanda seems a likely refuge and a good place to start. However, Wakandan security chief Princess Shuri states that M'Baku was last seen in the US, as Spider-Woman must know. In the United States, Drew's intelligencer Ben Urich checks his Manhattan contacts. However, neither superheroes such as Daredevil nor fellow journalists such as Peter Parker have encountered an at-large ape-man. They shall keep a lookout. Across the nation, Drew's legman Porcupine has underworld contacts. However, neither Grizzly nor Constrictor nor Spymaster has seen hide or hair of Man-Ape.

Spider-Woman and her people will have to keep hunting the huge, hairy heavy.

Meanwhile, Howard the Duck takes to the water where Mandrill reports last seeing Grim Reaper. He takes a shapeshifter named Tara Tam with him. At She-Hulk's insistence, reserve Avenger Stingray assists Howard and Tara. The Earth beneath the ocean is Stingray's environment, and he can search the seafloor much more quickly than even an alien duck can. (Plus, he is a worthier opponent versus Grim Reaper should the group find their foe). Stingray scrutinizes every sandy acre and sunken structure of Mason Neck in Long Island Sound, into which Grim Reaper moseyed. But, the aquatic Avenger reports back finding nothing.

Alter ego Dr. Walter Newell does have a message on his computer, however. On the night in question, SHIELD scientists detected sudden significant seismic activity in Block Island Sound, just off the tip of Long Island. Seemingly, a massive explosion occurred. Howard the Duck heads to SHIELD headquarters in Manhattan for more information. Tara Tam goes undercover at the Connecticut and Rhode Island border to see what she discovers. Stingray swims toward the affected area itself. Possibly, Mandrill needn't worry about his rival. Possibly, someone has blown Grim Reaper to hell already.

At the Ideahive, Hellcat suggests that she search for Black Talon in New Orleans. Hellcat feels that she has the right experience with weird ones, like Talon. She and ex-husband Daimon Hellstrom were paranormal detectives. The Defenders tackled occult matters routinely. To She-Hulk, Patsy proposes that Hellcat and Jubilee head on down Louisiana way. Maybe, fellow good guys Dr. Voodoo or Gambit will be down there to aid them.

At the Ideahive, She-Hulk researches Nekra's whereabouts, but she finds nearly naught in recent news. Her superhero sources—from New York to Los Angeles and beyond—have not seen Nekra.

Then, at the Ideahive, She-Hulk gets a visitor late one night. To her great surprise, she looks up from her Nekra notes, and a new person sits in the room with her. His mirrored shades capture her confused mien in the midnight hour. His visage is stolid, his posture stiff in his tan leather jacket, his holstered sidearm visible, his boots well-polished—and his hand extended in greeting.

"Hello, I am Louis Dawson, formerly of the NYPD SWAT unit," he removes his shades.

"Hi, as you must know, I am Jen Walters," She-Hulk shakes the man's hand. She is curious how he got into Jay Street after hours. But, she is willing to chat to find out. Jen might be a lone woman at night, but a monstrous powerhouse does not panic easily.

Dawson speaks across the desk, "I understand that you seek Nekra Sinclair, the Lethal Legion member." He points to Walters' notes.

Jen wonders how so many men are already privy to her files' contents upon entering this office. Mandrill had the same odd advantage. "How did you know that?" She-Hulk asks.

"Word on the street," Dawson answers.

"Do you know where Nekra is?" she asks.

"No, I don't," he answers, "But, I know who knows. Or rather, who probably knows."

She-Hulk sighs, "Tell me what you know." This Louis Dawson is kind of a riddle.

Louis informs Jen, "Nekra attempted to escape Connecticut after committing a hit. The hit was on one Laslo Pevely, a.k.a. the Terror, WWII-era vigilante."

"I know about the killing," Jen informs Louis. She is impressed that the mystery man knows about Laslo's secret identity. She will have to research Louis Dawson later.

"Nekra had criminal associate Black Talon drive her to Staten Island's southern tip," continues the visitor, "There operates a private airstrip owned by Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime."

"The Kingpin is involved in Pevely's assassination?" She-Hulk sounds surprised.

"Marginally," explains the man, "Kingpin seems to have simply provided escape transport to a criminal colleague as a professional courtesy."

"Plus, Nekra must have paid him well," She-Hulk speculates.

"My sources say that you are correct in your supposition," Dawson confirms, "For the money, Fisk provided his lieutenant Murray Bushbaum as pilot. I recorded the noted mobster and Nekra boarding for take-off." From his jacket, the creepy ex-cop produces prints, and he slides them across to his audience.

She-Hulk is amused to have another skulking spy (such as Mandrill was) in her office, and she takes the photos with a smile. The black-and-white images display black-and-white Nekra perfectly with her escape pilot near the numbers on an aircraft's tail.

Placing the pics aside, She-Hulk ponders her next move. She could leap her powerful legs across the city to Fisk Tower where she might force Fisk to answer a few questions. But, the heroine decides to look before she leaps into a villain's lair. An experienced superhero knows that even relatively low-level lowlifes such as Stilt-Man, Plantman, the Grappler, the Super-Apes, Red Ghost, Whirlwind, and Blizzard can offer big trouble. Each of those seven once caused She-Hulk embarrassing hassle, for example.

"Where might Murray be now?" inquires the wise woman warrior.

"I know that he is at Josie's Bar across the East River," definitively states Dawson.

Eyebrows rise, "Really? He is just over the Brooklyn Bridge at that place where Daredevil often fights his rogues?"

"Daredevil combats the Kingpin constantly. Kingpin's men hangout in Josie's Bar" the ex-cop states, "I observed Murray Bushbaum on a barstool over there before coming over here."

Shulkie says that she supposes that she should get over to Josie's. She stoops beneath her desk to get her tennis shoes on. Technically, nothing on a New York sidewalk can hurt impregnable feet, but powered people do many things from force of habit. When her head rises above the deskline, Louis Dawson is disappeared. She-Hulk is again surprised, and she wonders who the hell Dawson is. She-Hulk sprints the short distance westward.

Later, Jen finds out that Louis Dawson is the former SWAT member that he claims. And, he was damn good at his job until a fire took his beloved son Andy. In the wake of that loss, Dawson abandoned his career. Shortly thereafter, he had a conflict with Luke Cage and Iron Fist in a Harlem church (see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #109), but archived newspapers offer little detail about the incident. Perhaps, the press of the time gave the decorated policeman a break. Recently, Louis Dawson became the head of security for the Stark-Hayes Life Science Center in upstate New York. That Tony Stark employs this man is kind of an endorsement. A Freda Pfennigswert heads security in the Boston area. Freda's name seems familiar for some reason.

She-Hulk jogs into Josie's Bar, and many patrons—drunk as they are—run out. Murray is missing from them, so Shulkie lets them leave. Behind the bar, Josie nervously beholds the Jade Giantess. Turning, the Amazon asks about Murray. Josie juts a finger toward the bar's back. Before a bathroom door, a doltish bruiser stands awestruck over the Avenger's arrival.

Coming over, the creature commands curtly, "Move."

The goon Grotto grits his teeth anxiously, "I'm standin' guard while Turk takes care of his business." From within the washroom, one hears a hubbub as one man profanely and violently interrogates another.

"I need to get in there," She-Hulk announces.

"You can't go in there," Grotto wipes wet brow with his woolen cap.

She-Hulk grabs Grotto by the grimy tanktop, "Why can't I enter the men's room? Is it because I am a girl?"

She-Hulk bats the beefy buffoon aside. The incredible impact impels him through the air. Josie gasps, for she fears. Her wide window has often been broken by the Man Without Fear confronting a thug. However, Grotto only grazes the glass before hitting the ground. Relieved Josie figures that, somehow, someway, girls always stick together. She-Hulk is alright with her.

She-Hulk slams open the door to the men's room. Occupied, Turk Barrett takes no notice of her loud entrance. He shoves Murray against the exterior stall wall. Barret bellows, "Tell me where the f*** the f***ing plane is! God******, Murray, where is Kingpin's f***ing plane?! I will f*** you up! I will f*** you up, you f***ing motherf*****!"

Already, Turk has messed-up Murray quite a bit. Crimson blood stains the pilot's thick gray hair and yellow polo shirt. One eye is swelling shut. Murray breathes heavily through his bad teeth (some gaps newly made), and his shoes seem heavy under his wobbly legs.

Still, the mobster lobs a left at Turk, "I remember when you were just my delivery boy, boy." The punch misses.

"Yeah, I remember," Turk replies, "I used to move drugs for you [see _Marvel Graphic Novel_ #24]. You're gonna wish you had some of those narcotics now!" Barrett brandishes a long switchblade.

Twirling Turk around, She-Hulk wallops the thug through the wooden divider into the stall. Barrett falls flaccid to the filthy floor. She-Hulk seizes Murray, and the seemingly savage seven-footer growls. She wants him willing to answer queries.

"Are you the Murray Bushbaum who pilots for Wilson Fisk?" she grills.

"I might be," says Murray.

"And, is your plane missing?" She-Hulk shakes scamp like a ragdoll.

"Yeah. And, I don't know where it went!" dizzy deviant declares. Manhandled Murray might pass-out.

"What happened when you transported Nekra?" the heroine hisses. The Jade Giantess stops jostling the half-kaput Kingpin crony.

"I didn't take Nekra nowhere to my knowledge," Murray surprises Jen with his answer—and his double-negative.

"Explain," She-Hulk releases her grip.

Kingpin's grunt conveys, "I remember Nekra arriving with Black Talon, and I remember packing this tote of cash that she had. But, I don't remember nothing after that except a shaggy-haired man sneaking up on me. He spun me around and then glared into my eyes. When I next blinked, the plane, the passenger, and the guy were all gone."

The conversation pauses momentarily. Then, She-Hulk proposes, "Do you think that the thief was Dr. Faustus?"

"Nah," states Murray, "Faustus is too well-groomed. I know him. He used to buy barbiturates from me regularly."

"Do you think that the mop-top could be the Mad Thinker?" theorizes the fantastic femme.

Murray scratches his unshaven stubble, "No, I think I know who that is, and it wasn't him. My guy had a cape."

"I wonder if Mole Man has kidnapped another bride," She-Hulk wonders aloud.

"No, I think I know who Mole Man is too," states Murray.

She-Hulk scratches her head, "Hmm, shaggy hair and a cape. We shall have to think about it."


	5. Chap 5: Nekra's Tale

**Chapter 5: Nekra's Tale**

"Seriously, woman? You've been doing drugs?" She-Hulk chides kneeling Nekra.

The bedraggled Nekra stoops upon the sharp stones, her undone hair wafting in the wind. The north wind is steady and chilly over the semi-naked Nekra, and it visibly steals her breath in long, white wisps. Grayish tears flow from her glassy eyes to her slack jaw. They are probably from the buffeting gusts spraying Atlantic saltwater in her face, but they might also be from an insidious torment within her emaciated breast. Her bra and shorts hang a little loose on her frame, and a person can discern her ribs. Always, as befits her name, Nekra is cadaverous—with her ashen skin and raw flesh on display. But, she seems remarkably wizened here and now. Perhaps, drugs are to blame, for she does resemble strongly an enervated addict.

"Nekra! Nekra Sinclair!" She-Hulk solicits some attention.

In response, Nekra flips over a stone at her bloody knee. Beneath, beetles feed upon a rotting fish. To some surprise, Nekra swiftly scoops up the insects and pops them into her mouth. She chews and feeds. Then, she grabs the rotting cod for seemingly the same purpose.

She-Hulk swats away the fetid fish before it reaches Sinclair's lips. "We can get you something better on shore," Shulkie assures.

"Nekra does not seem mad that you did that," Marrina Smallwood stands a wee away, "And, Avengers files say that anger is Nekra's thing."

The Amazonian Avenger looks over her shoulder at her two companions. Avenger alum Marrina stands next to intent Guardian of Alpha Flight here on Funk Island. Funk Island is a craggy Canadian cay thirty-seven miles northeast of Newfoundland. It is a barren place but for boulders, brambles, bugs, and seemingly a billion birds who call the rock home. Some joke that the birds give Funk Island its name, for their deposits cover much of the place's half-mile by a fifth-mile surface area.

"I wonder why she is at this crappy location," concerned Guardian indicates Nekra.

"Sometimes, drug abusers pick some pretty depressing dens to do their thing," She-Hulk says, "Funk Island might be as barren without as a murderess' soul is within and as tempestuous as her inner rage."

"I don't know that drugs are the issue here," Marrina comments, "There seems to be something else going on." Marrina Smallwood has often been the plaything of the Master of the World and of her own alien physiology. She has a sense of certain things.

The algid autumn wind increases over the exposed on the open isle. All four are superbeings capable of surviving uncomfortable conditions. But still, She-Hulk decides that it is time for everyone to get ashore. Shulkie hugs Nekra close and hauls her limp, scantily-clad carcass to its feet. Surprisingly, the Priestess of Hate does nothing in protest. Instead, the lady villain languidly blinks a few times, looking the Avenger in the eyes.

The Jade Giantess carries the Lethal Legionnaire across her arms and takes a deep breath. Surely, Nekra will slug her in a rage. But, the villainess is slack and slobbering. The ongoing bluster carries Nekra's spit into her black hair, staining it.

"How did we get here again?" She-Hulk walks with heroic colleagues toward a moored boat a bit offshore. She-Hulk can leap to it. Marrina can swim. And, Guardian can fly.

Guardian answers Jen's question, "As an Avenger, you put-out an a.p.b. of sorts to intelligence agencies: SHIELD, the U.S. FBI, and all North American organizations. You sought an aircraft that someone had dared steal from the Kingpin, and you provided everyone the tail number. Jeff Brown of Canadian Security Intelligence Service is good at his job, and he noticed when the Mounties found your missing plane in Newfoundland. Jeff certainly knows us in Alpha Flight, and he contacted me, the team's leader. I figured that one should contact in turn Marrina, whose home territory is Newfoundland, and you. We met-up in eastern Canada here. I thought that we might be going after gangsters, Kingpin competitors, from south of the border."

"However, upon arrival, you informed us differently," Marrina takes-up the story, "We three were actually tracking a Lethal Legion member named Nekra. We went to Wesleyville where the plane was found—despite having no nearby airstrip. In Wesleyville, we questioned residents and pursued leads. Local fishermen reported sporadically spotting a strange woman with blanched skin and a black bikini on Funk Island. Oddly, she would appear one minute and disappear the next."

"I asked about a shaggy-haired man who was perhaps accompanying her," She-Hulk adds. Kingpin's pilot had said that a shaggy-haired man was the plane's thief. An experienced crimefighter suspects that he was also Nekra's partner-in-crime or her absconder.

Moaning, Nekra clenches her teeth and tightens her jaw. The villainess reacts to mention of the shaggy man. She keens crossly. She blinks rapidly. She mutters something.

"What did you say?" She-Hulk inquires.

"Angst," Nekra whispers into the whistling wind.

She-Hulk cannot hear. "What did you say?" the heroine leans on in.

Into Shulkie's eyes, Nekra's fingers fly. The gamma-enhanced green peepers do not pop, but the attack plenty hurts. She-Hulk cringes and plaints. Posthaste, Nekra's powerful knee knocks her hefter across the face too. She-Hulk drops her suddenly lively load.

Nekra instantly stands and incoherently screams like a beast for a moment. Bestially, she stomps the granite ground and grips the passing air. The next moment, Nekra screams, "Aaaaangst! Aaaaangst! Where are you, Mangles?!"

Guardian wraps Nekra from behind, and he prepares to shock her into submission. Apparently, Nekra has found the adrenaline that activates her super-strength, remarkable resilience, and savage nature. Some Guardian juice ought to arrest her bad humor.

However, before James Hudson acts, Dr. Angst—a shaggy-haired sorcerer—manifests behind him. She-Hulk recognizes Angst immediately and strides toward the threat.

Dr. Angst incants, "You're Guardian, and I'm glue. Whatever you do to Nekra, I do to you."

The Master of Mundane Mysticism specializes in a silly, "lame" magic in which so-so sing-song succeeds as spellcasting. The evil wizard places his palm upon Guardian's back. James Hudson's electrostatic shock stuns himself instead of the seized supervillain. The hero simply spasms and slumps supine, still and unconscious.

Raging Nekra wheels around to her enemy Angst. She-Hulk rushes forward to her past foe Floyd Mangles. Marrina dives through the air at the adversary who attacked her friend and leader.

With a pompous flourish of his purple cape, Dr. Angst disappears into a smoky poof. The three super-ladies impact into each other with great force. They fall onto the Funk Island firmament with a big, dusty puff. The Howard the Duck nemesis has brought some slapstick to this stark setting. Somewhere, he smiles smugly.

Snorting dust and snot from her snout, savage Sinclair seizes She-Hulk's hair and yanks the green girl to her feet. She-Hulk stands up straight, and the grasping hellion hangs suspended a foot from the ground. Her flailing feet abuse She-Hulk's shins. Her free fist thumps She-Hulk's ribs. Her vexing wails resound in She-Hulk's ear.

"Let go," Jen calmly orders.

"Aaaaah! Puny Jade Giantess! The madder I get, the stronger I get!" the berserker bellows, "Nekra smash you and then smash Angst!"

"And quit stealing Hulk lines," She-Hulk adds.

The hair-puller bites Jen on the neck like an actual bitch. Hulk hide is too hard to easily penetrate, but the attack hurts. And, She-Hulk has a temper herself. Her forceful fists hammer hanging Nekra like a swinging punching bag. The Lethal lady lets go.

Amazingly, she leaps right back up though. Nekra's unrestrained haymaker actually jolts She-Hulk. The mutant's magnificent hormones must be working overtime. She lands another punch. And, Marrina lands on her back and tries pinning back her amped arms.

Marrina tells Shulkie, "Punch-out Nekra while I've got her a second."

"You've got me? I've got you!" fierce Nekra tells Marrina. The femme fatale sprints for the Funk shore, Smallwood on her back.

"The sea? Seriously? You must be hysterical," the aquatic Alpha announces. The two tumble into the rough Atlantic where perhaps only Nekra will have a rough time. Or, Marrina might have a tough time. The madwoman seems pretty provoked.

Deliberately, She-Hulk scans for Angst, albeit not nervously. She goes to Guardian who is now stirring.

"Are you alright?" She-Hulk asks, "I kind of need buddies on this mission. Our wild child there sometimes works with parties capable of subduing Wonder Man and the Vision simultaneously. I cannot be alone in this excursion."

Guardian groans and rouses. He reaches for his temples and rubs. She-Hulk raises him slightly and rubs his back. All of a sudden, the Canadian champion ruffles and points behind his helper.

She-Hulk turns to see. Dr. Angst exits his Dropcloth of Invisibility, which magically hovers unseen in mid-air. The occult curtain does not even flap in the persistent sea breeze.

Above the wind, Angst announces ostentatiously, "I am the Master of Mundane Mysticism! Fear me!"

Before any hero reacts, the rogue ignites the great auto headlight, hanging like the Eye of Agamotto, attaching his cape. He shines his sinister "high beam" upon the two do-gooders like deer in a headlight. With She-Hulk, the light goes to her head temporarily, and the "high" beam causes brings euphoria to her being. The light-headed gal hangs loose, and her heavy arms release her ally. For Guardian, the shine sends the semi-conscious cynosure speedily sky-high before he can possibly react. He is instantly but a red and white rocket high over the Atlantic.

Dr. Angst deactivates his awesome amulet. She-Hulk shakes her head vigorously to clear vapors.

"So, we meet again," Angst iterates a hackneyed line.

"Indeed, we do, Angst," the Avenger acknowledges, "And, you will meet defeat like you always do."

"Always do?" the doctor inquires, "How can I perpetually meet defeat? I have only two appearances: _Marvel Treasury Edition_ #12 and your _Sensational She-Hulk_ series."

"Sheesh! How can you read that s***?" the comic critic comments upon Marvel magazines, tabloid entertainment on Earth-616.

Floyd Mangles replies, "Well, the Conjurer of the Commonplace would be someone who loves popular literature. Mundane objects and artifacts make my mojo, after all. Insipid stories are where the bandleader of the bland lives."

"Then, let me provide you some excitement," the heroine traipses toward her foe.

"You're loony," Angst makes a bad pun. With sleight of hand, the mundane magician produces a loonie, Canada's dollar coin. His fingers flick it end-over-end at advancing She-Hulk.

The loonie enlarges to the size of a queen-sized bed. Strong hands catch the incoming object and merely toss the coin aside. It shrinks back to its normal size and plinks into the Grand Banks offshore.

"How flippant," She-Hulk comments on the coin.

With a sleight of hand, the prestidigitator produces a plain key (which happens to be the purloined plane key). "Behold the key to your defeat," says he.

In an unholy high pitch, the upheld key emits a shrill sonic attack that shakes Shulkie from skull to soles. Still, She-Hulk stoically trudges toward her enemy, apparently unrattled. She claps her mighty mitts together as her cousin might—with a resounding boom. The counterattack does not produce a shockwave (as the Incredible Hulk might), but it does create a disruption to the damaging din. The earsplitting enchantment breaks, and the immediate area falls briefly silent.

Over Dr. Angst, She-Hulk towers as she arrives. She reaches down for him. He points to the ground. "Let me rock you with real rocks," the Wizard of Weltschmerz smarts off.

The rocks spin like reversed rollers beneath She-Hulk's boots. Surprised, the Fantastic one flails comically for a second or two. Then, the stones dump her on her ass on the earth. Irked, the Jade Giantess kicks a sizable surge of soil at Angst, and it lands completely upon him. Angst should momentarily lack oxygen until She-Hulk digs him out unconscious.

However, the giant Broom of Whazoom appears at the heroine's flank. It swats She-Hulk aside. The broadsiding Brobdingnagian Broom of Whazoom frees its master. Then, the sizable spellbound sweeper sorcerously splinters into a colossal cloud of wood, straw, and dust that pelt and wrap She-Hulk on violent winds. The Savage one snorts and sneezes while shaking her tresses and swiping clean her clothes.

From the cloud, She-Hulk leaps the forty feet to Dr. Angst. She shatters his headlight. She cuffs his head. She grabs his shirt and slams him hard to the gravel.

"Ooouch," Floyd Mangles groans.

Kneeling over Angst ominously, Shulkie says, "Surrender now. Otherwise, face some real agony, Angst."

Obstinate, the Conjurer of the Commonplace commands the heavens, "Gather my gulls."

Overhead, swarming seabirds amass. The common, and perhaps vulgar, creatures gather as they shriek, ululate, and call their threat to divebomb and, um, "drop bomb". Shulkie won't have the sh**** situation, so she slaps the sorcerer—breaking his concentration. The concentration of upset avians disperses as well.

She-Hulk hauls flaccid foe to his feet. She asks, "How did Nekra get to Funk Island?"

"I kidnapped her," answers Angst.

Potentially disgusted, She-Hulk shakes the stupid man, "Why would you do that?"

Mangles manages to declare, "I-I-I love her."

Further disturbed, the frightful attorney interrogates, "How the hell is that? I always figured that Band of the Bland teammate Tillie the Hun was your mama or maybe the Spanker your daddy." The piqued powerhouse is not too p.c. at the moment.

Floyd explains, "Nekra and I met at a Massachusetts penitentiary dance. The Old Colony State is very progressive, and its prisons have, of course, co-ed events. At the ball, I fell head-over-heels for fair, full-busted, barefoot Nekra. And, I have been obsessed ever since.

"In the past, I have attempted to assassinate aspiring politician Howard the Duck, and I have conspired to squish the entire cosmos. But, I have never pursued a plot like plucking Nekra from Staten Island, paralyzing her over Connecticut, proposing to her in the heavens over New Hampshire, plastering her displeased mouth shut over Maine, pacifying her over the Atlantic, plunging our transport into Newfoundland, placing her on this Atlantic pedestal, and possessing her precious mind and pretty person. I have plunked my pulchritudinous puppet beside me every night since arrival and placated our every need for pabulum and warmth. I am madly in love with my lady, and I shall fight the entire Lethal Legion itself if they ever show!"

Growing greatly angry, the green gargantuan grills, "Doctor, how can you not see that you have a sick infatuation with Ms. Sinclair?"

"Oh indeed! I'm the biggest Nekra-philiac in the world. . . . . Um, that came out wrong," flustered Floyd's face flushes a wee.

Shuddering slightly, She-Hulk seizes shaggy hair and suspends the scuzz painfully by his scalp. The two nemeses are nervous gaze to narrowed eye. Solicitor Walters wants specifics before She-Hulk serves harsh justice. The Jade Giantess adjures, "Tell me before I pound you to pulp. What were your specific improprieties with Nekra? Did you despoil her? Did you plow her? Is she pregnant?"

Shocked and nonplussed, the pathetic perpetrator pronounces, "What kind of pervert do you think I am?! Dr. Mangles' transgressions are ever mediocre. I merely kidnapped and kissed comely Nekra Sinclair. I have plugged my passionate lips to her plush ones and have planted my hand on her hip and on her palpitating heart while peering into her pleading pupils. I gave her pleasurable potions to make her pliable, less repulsed, and placid. I petted her plummy hair and patted her firm fanny. But, I never consummated our love. That would be fiendish and foul. Instead, I gave her a Funk Island fairy tale, nigh platonic!"

"What you did still counts, creep," She-Hulk prepares to punch out Angst. Her free fist clenches with a crack.

Abruptly, a crash offshore distracts the aspiring avenger. Something swift has bumped the boat bow so hard as to put the craft into a spin. She-Hulk sees Marrina and Nekra surface for a second in a high spiral over the sea. The supernatural swimmer can manipulate the ocean so. In the maelstrom, Marrina, talons extended, claws Nekra's eyes, and Sinclair slugs Smallwood across the chin. The lofty spire topples, and the two combatants tumble toward the shallows off Funk. Marrina wraps Nekra's waist and slams her with a splat into the seawater and sediment stories below.

Recovering quickly, Nekra rises wobbly but resolute with rage. Just as quickly, Marrina rises scowling behind her. The Avenger drags Nekra beneath the rough and rolling surf and shoots both battlers out to sea.

She-Hulk returns to her reprobate. She aims her punch. But, her furious fist phases through the terrible thaumaturge who teleports from the great green grip.

Dr. Angst gets but thirteen feet away, for his magic is middling by nature. She-Hulk grinds her teeth and goes for Mangles. But, a flash of red and white gets to Floyd before she does. Guardian returns for Dr. Angst, and Canada's champion carries the cad away by the collar. The criminal's purple cape shreds as speeding Guardian scrapes him over the scrub. The bad guy's green blouse rips when the good guy abruptly stops, and the barechested scoundrel skids through sticky, thick guano. Wearing stinky white waste, Angst raises himself upright. Guardian uppercuts Angst so hard that a brown boot falls off. Flopping onto bird mess, the Master of Mundane Mysticism begins mumbling a spell. The northern knight notices the attempted mischief.

Weapon Alpha addresses woeful Angst, "You appear to be a wizard, fella. I can do magic too. As a brilliant and experienced engineer, I know just how to make you disappear."

For his next trick, Guardian blasts a big electric bolt through the gassy surroundings. The air ignites immensely. An explosion propels the Conjurer of the Commonplace from the earth on a fireball through the wind into the water. In his supersuit, a force field protects smirking Guardian. James Hudson hopes that Marrina recovers the rogue before Angst drowns. Otherwise, the cyborg can find the supervillain expediently if need be.

As it happens, Marrina comes ashore at that moment, and she brings neutralized Nekra with her. Jen helps drag the limp Lethal Legionnaire inland. To her consternation, Walters notices that Sinclair is not breathing.

"She has water in her lungs," She-Hulk lets Marrina know.

"I know. I half-drowned her to pacify her," the Plodex plugger replies.

She-Hulk positions the half-naked, alabaster body for resuscitation. Her powerful palm pushes the brine from Nekra's breast, and some coughs come from the off-color offender. She-Hulk keeps the Priestess of Hate pinned, lest she weakly lunge at her savior. Heaving a sigh, the heroine beholds the poor being before her.

She-Hulk tells Marrina, "Murderess or not, I feel bad for Nekra. She has been beneath Mandrill's thrall—not a thrill—and now this degenerate."

But, Marrina and Guardian are not there. They are underwater retrieving Dr. Angst. She-Hulk hopes that Hellcat and Howard the Duck are not having such bizarre adventures elsewhere in New Orleans and New England.


	6. Chap 6: Black Talon's Tale, Part One

**Chapter 6: Black Talon's Tale, Part One**

Fred Myers lights a victory cigar, "You don't mind if I f***ing smoke in here, do you? I am not very damn proper."

"You just murdered five people. You can do whatever the f*** you want," Sam Barone replies.

Boomerang and Black Talon behold the bodies before them. Beneath the setting sun, both stand in the wide bay door of an antiquated, abandoned warehouse. Inside, Black Billy stands unnaturally limp on utterly loose legs, his dead eyes looking on his assassin. A long bladarang pinions the lank body to the wooden post behind him.

"I killed him first," Boomerang tells, "I was on a barge out on the Mississippi. From the river, my binoculars spied on this group of goons through this big open door here. I saw Black Billy surveying the river, so he was about to perhaps spot me. Therefore, I immediately activated my jet boots and came-in hot—bladarang in hand."

"From your hand, the instrument found Billy's chest," Black Talon conjectures.

"Correct," Boomerang brags, "It took me about fifteen seconds total to kill all five f***ers in here."

"Very good," Black Talon beckons Boomerang to follow him into the old sugarcane storehouse, here at the Port of New Orleans.

"I suppose that the sinners should go marching in," Boomerang quips, "We are at the peopled Port of New Orleans in full supervillain costume."

The active port bustles all around the terrible two examining dead bodies. Behind them, the wide Mississippi River overflows with barges and other boats upon it. Around them, clerks and shoremen load and off-load vessels, and an assemblage of sailors switch shifts on ships. In the distance, truckers and train engineers take freight to its destinations all over the nation. Amongst the whole crowd, law enforcement looks on, and government officials monitor and officiate.

But, for some reason, no one confronts two supervillains in full view and in full costume. Their garish garb has grabbed no attention, seemingly. Neither cops nor citizens have confronted Black Talon and Boomerang yet. Possibly, all on-lookers are honestly too occupied and active to notice the ostentatious evil-doers. Possibly, the Port's populace is a rough crowd used to crime and used to minding its own business.

Possibly, someone has noticed the terrible two and just has not made her move yet. Patsy Walker, a.k.a. Hellcat, watches from a distance.

Black Talon has made his move. He is in the center of five dead thugs arranged in a v. His steps creak the old wooden floors and echo off the old brick walls turned crimson in the setting sun. The slaughtered are still and silent amidst his active noise. Blood and gore loudly stain the crimsoned surroundings.

"Tell me how you disposed of this confederacy of dumbasses," Samuel Barone lightly references a book set in New Orleans.

" _Confederacy of Dunces_ ," Boomerang corrects.

"How did you know that?" Samuel is surprised that Boomerang is no slouch.

"I occasionally do hits at Empire State University in Manhattan," Fred references his work, "And, every academic has a f***ing copy of Toole's book."

Black Talon rejoins, "Well, I am grateful that you temporarily left New York, where you assassinate geniuses, to visit New Orleans where I provided you five stooges."

"Such as Black Billy," Boomerang points to the limp loser, "He once kidnapped a busload of kids in Texas. Shooting Star freed them and caught him [see _Marvel Comics Presents_ #45]."

"Such as Jimmy Littlehawk," Black Talon indicates a dead mug mangled on the floor, "He used to run his own gang of robbers throughout Arizona until his cousin American Eagle brought Littlehawk down [see _Marvel Comics Presents_ #128]."

Myers chuckles. He recounts, "Yeah, he had his back against a post as I flew in, so I whipped an explosive shatterang at the pine. The shrapnel formed a f***king fleur-de-lis through his right flank."

"Very festive. Like confetti from a flunky," Barone jokes, "Of course, I shall have to sew his entails back in before making him a zombie."

Boomerang is blasé. He simply smokes his cigar and strolls to his next victim. Crassly, he hauls-up the lifeless hood by the long, brown hair. Copious blood covers the front of the hood's leather jacket. His throat has been slit clean open. Two daggers clatter from his lax hands. They join a razorang, the murder weapon, lying not far from them.

"Rudy Vandenberger," Black Talon identifies the departed, "a con artist who was also an expert knife thrower."

Boomerang sees the dropped daggers, "I see that he managed to draw on me as I jetted in. That's impressive. Of course, it's not as impressive as what I did to him. I whacked him and his partner ambidextrously simultaneously. I threw a razorang with my left and a regular 'rang with my right."

"You killed Bobo the Clown without a trick weapon? No s***!" Black Talon is impressed.

"The boomerang is an ancient and respected weapon," the proud Australian assassin states, "Since prehistory, man has killed everything from fellow man to animal prey to luckless clown with a simple sylvan object hurled from the right hand. Yes, I broke Bobo's brains open with a 'plain' boomerang."

Blood has pooled around the clown's planted face where he lies stock-still and prone. Scarlet streaks through his puce hair from a gaping grey open cranial fracture, exposing brain like dun porridge.

Boogeyman Barone considers the blood-curdling conked clown. He comments, "I am glad to have lured Rudy and Bobo to their deaths. Alas, I knew them, Boomerang."

"Personally?"

"F*** no! These two were losers," Black Talon narrates, "These two were ex-circus performers who attempted to con and murder Rudy's brother who headed the family circus [see _Marvel Comics Presents_ #42]. Keenly, the brother had Nightwing Restorations investigate the knife-thrower and knave's scheme. Rudy and Bobo survived the Daughters of the Dragon, but they did not survive us. I am proud to say."

"Generally, the Daughters of the Dragon don't kill people anyway," Myers mentions.

"Well sure, that's true," Black Talon acknowledges. He shifts his eyes back and forth mildly embarrassed.

Suddenly, Bobo the Clown shifts too, and Black Talon nearly "shifts" himself with surprise. Boomerang nigh startles from his skin too. Caterwauling, the cudgeled clown pulls and peels his painted face from its grisly, gluey puddle. Juices dripping, the jester juts an accusing finger at his antagonists. Head cracked open, funnyman Bobo wobbles to his feet.

"Yaaaaa beeestrds!" Bobo speaks as he slobbers beneath his sanguine (rubber) nose and sloppy exposed cerebrum.

"What the f*** did he just say?" Barone queries.

"I don't know. Per your intel, the moron is a mummer from Montreal. But, I don't f***ing speak French. Excuse my Saxon," replies Myers.

"Well, clowns speak in riddles anyway," Samuel slams a big knife between the polka dots adorning Bobo's left chest. The voodoo priest always carries a ceremonial blade for when he kills with ceremony—or not.

Black Talon retracts his sticker. Sangre sprays like seltzer. The twice-killed thief falls with a thud, his large shoes indexing the ceiling. Savagely, Black Talon stabs the motley murder victim some more for good measure. Bobo grunts throughout but eventually grows still.

"Sorry about the mess," Boomerang states, "It's funny that Bobo the Clown did that."

"Yes, he was quite the comedian about conveniently dying for us," Black Talon pats Boomerang's pate, "However, rest assured that you will still get the full three million promised for a job well-done."

"Lovely," Boomerang treads through Bobo's mess, "Let me show you the final fool that I dispatched for you."

"Indeed, tell me about the death of Cajun Creed," the criminal mastermind rhymes. Talon points to the colossal Cajun corpse collapsed on the floor.

Playfully, Boomerang does some wordplay too, "Dis here be Cajun Creed. He once fight Moon Knight [see _Moon Knight_ #11] and survive. He not survive my gasarang dough. Dey gasarang give 'im some mustard gas in de mouf, and dey mustard prove jist too spicy. Ya-eee!"

"We Louisianans don't actually talk like that," Black Talon rolls his eyes.

"At least not to yo own ears, honey," Boomerang continues abusing the Creole with Fred Myers' faux Cajun dialect.

Black Talon decides to simply examine the big body instead of excoriate the big boob beside him. Local gangster Cajun Creed is 6'7" of enhanced flesh capable of exchanging punches with Moon Knight. In fact, the solid strongman nearly threw a steel desk at arriving Boomerang. But, the gas must have gotten the big guy to drop it on himself, for the overturned heavy object sits atop a thick right arm, pinning it. Creed's sizable left hand sits atop his wide throat where the sulfurous smoke lethally entered his airway and lungs.

From Creed's buckskin belt, Black Talon takes the ice pick that the Cajun always carried to murder people and to enforce his will. The rooster-masked man clucks his tongue. He jokes, "Creed could have attempted a tracheotomy with this thing, but I doubt that it would have re-opened his swollen airway."

"The brute probably didn't have the brains to think of that self-surgery," says Myers, a brute himself.

Declares the voodoo priest, "Cajun Creed and his four fellows will never need their brains again. They are to be my zombies before long, and I shall do all of their thinking and deciding for them."

The hitman does not care about the men whom he ended. "Do what you want with them," Boomerang puffs his smelly stogie, "I just want my payment."

Black Talon brandishes a voucher. He hands-over the note and an accompanying key, "Go to the parking garage just northwest of here that the note indicates. On the sixth tier, you will find an inconspicuous sedan parked in the spot noted. In the car's trunk, you will find one hundred pounds in dollars equaling three million clams. You will also find a black box containing a golden necklace. Please accept this old African gold as your gratuity. Keep it, or fence it. The Talisman of Damballah is your just dessert for deadly deeds."

"I might fence it," Fred scratches his chin, "I know an elderly eccentric in New England who collects museum pieces almost as ancient as he is."

"Is he really, actually ancient?" Black Talon wonders, for he lives in a marvelous universe of actual wonders.

"Nah, he's like one hundred or something," Boomerang clarifies, "His granddaughter and he live in Massachusetts off of old money."

Black Talon wonders some more. He too scratches his chin. The fence sounds a little like Grim Reaper's employer for the Connecticut job. And, oddly enough, Black Talon just paid Boomerang with the money from that same Terror job. Sometimes, the criminal underground is a small world, and one does not know where the loas lead one in life. There are things, which not really funny, rather make one go hmm.

Black Talon returns his thoughts to discussing the offered African artifact, "Boomerang, you should know that the Talisman of Damballah can be a powerful weapon in the right hands. The snake god Damballah could humble the Mighty Thor himself, the chick or the legitimate man. Damballah could humble the entire avatars of Wakanda—whether they be Black Panther himself or M'Baku, the Man-Ape."

"The bling has some mojo and hoodoo? That's great," Boomerang is amused. The amused assassin strolls to some shadows in the building. The famous felon needs to change clothes if publicly walking across the Port of New Orleans to escape.

Momentarily, vicinal binoculars watch Fred Myers depart the scene of slaughter and strut nonchalantly northwest. Then, the spy glasses return their gaze back to the derelict sugarcane warehouse. Patsy Walker can approximately discern Black Talon moving the five corpses into a circle and unpacking accessories. No doubt, he plans a ceremony for unnaturally raising the fallen. Zombies are his thing. An experienced demonologist and superhero knows such things.

Patsy lowers the longview lenses from her gorgeous blue eyes. Incognito, the reserve Avenger's long red locks, fine features, and svelte figure make her a cute "teamster". In an open trailer back, she turns to Jubilation Lee, her partner-in-crimefighting. Hellcat and Jubilee have tracked down Black Talon to New Orleans as they thought that they would. In the Big Easy, the New Orleans Police Department has aided the Avenger as it could. Detectives Samuel Tate and Pete Hawkins have kept loose tabs on Black Talon activity from way back (see _Strange Tales_ #172-173).

"Boomerang has left the building," Hellcat notes, "His departure should help our cause of capturing Black Talon for his criminal Connecticut activities."

Jubilee guffaws, "We're letting Boomerang go?! He murdered five people!"

"I know, but we're short-staffed," Patsy explains, "If we can get people, we can apprehend the ex-Outback down the road."

Jubilee humbly acknowledges, "I wish that I could have gotten us New Orleans' own Gambit. He could have matched Boomerang explosive projectile to explosive projectile. But, my X-Men ally is out-of-town, of all things."

Hellcat acknowledges, "And, I wish that I could have gotten us the Big Easy's eminent Dr. Voodoo or my gal pal Spectrum, originally from here. However, they seems to have disappeared in a flash and a poof of smoke."

"So, it's just us girls versus a Lethal Legionnaire and his zombie posse," Jubilee crosses her arms.

"Yeah, we have an ace in the hole named Federigo Ravina though," Hellcat hurls her ballcap, "But, we girls should take first crack at the supervillain and his corpse cronies. Federigo is not an experienced superguy. He doesn't even have a codename."

"You have mentioned him," says Jubilee. Hellcat's assistant has not even met the superpowered wunderkind.


	7. Chap 7: Black Talon's Tale, Part Two

**Chapter 7: Black Talon's Tale, Part Two**

Model Patsy Walker hands her assistant the plaid flannel shirt that she was wearing, and she strides into the shadows of the semi trailer. Hellcat says, "I think I'll slip out of this T-shirt and jeans, Jubilee. It's time for a quick change into costume."

Over her shoulder, Jubilee replies, "Once you change, Patsy, we heroines hit Black Talon's current lair. I go ground floor, and you go high." The X-Man assesses the abandoned storehouse.

"Sounds like a plan," Patsy replies back from the trailer's front. She dons her famous, feared, feline face.

Sans mask, Jubilee applies a thick foundation to her face. However, neither vanity nor disguise is the cover-girl's concern. Rather, practicality makes Lee cake-on the cosmetic, for Jubilation Lee is a vampire these days. And, Sol's afternoon rays could ravage her skin even more than her redheaded cohort's. Fortunately, another cohort Hank McCoy, the Beast, has provided the creature of the night with specialized sunblockers spreadable over one's exterior on occasions such as this. Conveniently, Jubilee can join daytime missions with her allies, whether X-Men or Avengers.

The young heroine still has worries though. As a vampire, Jubilee is undead. As a voodoo priest, Black Talon commands the undead easily and often. In theory, he could control and exploit her. Although, vampires generally have too much will (many can even mesmerize others) for such malevolent machinations. However, powerful priests have enthralled bloodsuckers before. The legendary houngan W'Sulli notably did it and caused trouble for the Thing, Black Panther, Brother Voodoo, and the affected fiend (see _Marvel Two-in-One_ #40-41). Vampires know their lore.

However, Patsy's gal Friday should not focus upon fears. Her friend and employer needs someone reliable, not irresolute. Jubilee hefts a heavy satchel from the trailer floor. She drops down her rose-colored sunglasses and tries to look cool.

Abruptly, Hellcat startles Jubilee. The feline Marvel brushes past as the Avenger bounds toward Black Talon's bastion. Jubes jumps a little. The Cat beckons her compatriot to follow her.

Within the warehouse, Black Talon chants and screams, shimmies and sways. Samuel Barone seeks to wake the dead lying at his feet. Shrieking skyward, Samuel spins in a spiral, sprinkling animal blood from a rooster claw. Eyes back and tongue forward, the houngan howls to Baron Samedi—loa of death—to resurrect these sinners as Black Talon's sordid slaves. And so, deceased scamps Cajun Creed and Black Billy, Littlehawk and Vandenberger, and Bobo the Clown stir and spasm shake as though in a simultaneous seizure. They scream awfully in reawakening. Slowly, the shaking five fiends stand up and step forward, scowling and shambling.

From the rafters above, Hellcat watches the wicked rising. After hewing through the wooden roof, the Happy-Go-Lucky heroine has witnessed the unnerving necromancy below. Soon, the Cat will pounce from her position upon Black Talon, master of this macabre puppet show. She need only await the brilliant distraction that Jubilee will provide. Of course, "brilliant" is another word for "bright" and "light".

Like lightning, Lee streaks toward the warehouse's open entrance. At the entrance, she throws a flurry of flash grenades through the aperture, in emulation of past powers. Jubilee lost her natural abilities on M-Day, so the fireworks cheer her, stir her dormant heart, and remind her of past glory. She smiles and beams.

Black Talon, on the other hand, grimaces in the blazing glamor suddenly surrounding him. He grits and grinds his teeth as the grenades pop, pop, pop in proximity. Tears flush his eyes as flashes fill the forum. Flummoxed, he flails his arms and flees forward, but he but foolishly falls over Bobo's oversized foot—but not before his flailing glove talon fillets Bobo's cheek flesh, which flops flaccidly loose.

"F***!" Hellcat cringes at the unexpected carving. The Defender decides to drop into the den of dreadful denizens. She must address this unholy scene. The dead, even damned criminals, deserve some dignity, and a devilish dude, such as Black Talon, must face justice for his despicable, degenerate deeds. Hero Hellcat gracefully drops the sixteen feet to the floor as Black Talon clumsily rises.

Forthwith, tall Cajun Creed conks Hellcat heavily atop the head. It would seem that the wide-eyed zombies are not the blind dead one bit. Numb optic nerves and an inactive brain can aid an unliving lout so that, seemingly, nothing shocks a returned wretch. Immediately, Black Billy seizes Red by the tresses and flips her to Bobo who bops her in the nose. Reflexively, the Avenger backhands Bobo hard across his unopened cheek. Brain wobbles like jello in his previously split skull.

In succession, the superheroine swiftly strikes the circle of festering foes. Her foot forcefully back-kicks Vandenberger. Her right hand claws Bobo's face while her left hand jabs Jimmy Littlehawk. Leaping, she roundhouse-kicks Cajun Creed—CRACK!—before flipping him atop Black Billy. SNAP!

To Hellcat's relief, Jubilee enters the fray. The lithe Lilith tackles Rudy like a lineman. The knifes in his hands drive into his chest when Jubilee drives him downward. On the floor, Vandenberger expressionlessly ogles them stuck there. Jubilee jumps to her feet. She slugs Bobo's mug, mashing his bulbous nose. The vamp belts arisen Black Billy across the wide room. Toward Jubilee, Littlehawk charges—his entrails trailing him (there was no time to sew him shut).

"Gross" thinks Hellcat gaping at the gruesome sight.

Suddenly, stumbling blinded Black Talon stomps the squishy intestines stopping Littlehawk abruptly—until the guts tear. Automatically, Patsy's guts feel a little upset too. She hesitates an instant and forcefully swallows. Behind her, Cajun Creed stands back up. The brute resets his neck and arm with sickening sounds. From behind, Creed grabs Hellcat's neck and slams an eight-inch icepick into her arm. Walker unfreezes and screams.

Around the combatants, something happens unnoticed, for now. The flash grenades accomplish what Boomerang's earlier explosive shatterang could not. The hot objects have overheated the pine composing this fight's site. The warehouse's floorboards have burning embers upon them. And, those burning embers have ignited those old planks a little, and that wood smolders. It spreads flames toward the sylvan supports in the brick building. Increasingly, it puts smoke into the air.

Oblivious to the coming conflagration, the two heroines burn through thugs. Indeed, Jubilee and Hellcat light into ghoulish goons like a dynamic duo. BIFF! Lee lambastes Bobo. STAB! An icepick pins Creed's boot to the ground soundly. He is defeated. POW! Super-strength sprawls Littlehawk over the floor. WHACK! Walker wallops Black Billy with a flying sidekick into the wall. Billy hits the bricks and stays down. All zombies are finally going down.

By the battle, Black Talon wanders around like a chicken with its head cut off. Spots before his peepers, the rooster-themed rogue roams blindly. Until, his boot finds some floor-fire, and his foot fries briefly like poultry. Chanticleer crows. Teary-eyed, Talon squints at the smoldering tinder, and he decides to throw a hex upon it. With dark magic, Black Talon induces disaster. His hex heightens the fire's flames tenfold. And, the burgeoning blaze surges speedily over the slash pine. Instantly, a rolling wall of heat hits Hellcat and everyone else. Smoke spreads swiftly everywhere. An inferno instantly incinerates Cajun Creed to ash, eats-up Littlehawk, cremates the Clown, cooks Vandenberger, and burns Black Billy to char. Hellcat fires her cable-claws into the rafters, and the four-clawed grappling hooks hastily raise her above the active blaze. Below, a glow incredibly incandesces, and a crackle echoes tempestuously.

Patsy yells into the tumult, "Jubilee! Federigo Ravina is useless now! He mind-controls bugs! We could have swarmed Talon with cockroaches! But now, we women won't call him!"

Walker's assistant does not appear about to phone Federigo anyway. Jubilee just stands stark still amidst the inferno. Hellcat wonders what the hell is going on. Why would a vampire freeze when facing a conflagration? Fire can destroy her kind, and flames threaten stagnant Jubilee on all sides. They lick her garments, lash her bare legs, and blister her face. But, Jubilee stays silent and stony.

To Jubilee's side, Black Talon slinks through the flames like a salamander—somehow unharmed. A necklace of ensorcelled animal bones bends the hot tongues from his person. Like a rooster, Black Talon struts to his hypnotized hen, held in his potent power.

The houngan howls, "Samuel says 'Don't move'! Samuel says 'Die in a fire!'"

Hellcat observes overhead. She assesses that some voodoo priests can possess vampires. The Avenger alights on an unlit section of floor. She must rescue her aide.

Abruptly, flames ignite Walker's friend before her eyes. Hellcat shrieks in the stifling smoke. Jubilee does not scream at all. The fire scorches her hair, melts her raincoat over her, and withers her. But, she combusts completely quietly, creeping-out her companion utterly. Lee's shoes sear from her feet. Her skin splits as she sizzles and roasts. But, the dying vamp remains reticent.

Hellcat prays that she can somehow haul her helper to the Mighty Mississippi or otherwise get water upon her. However, the heroine has her doubts. She is unsure how fast that a Defender can defeat Black Talon, wrap a burning body, and deliver one of the damned from a horrible fate.

Fortunately, Jubilee surprisingly delivers herself, for the bewitched wench becomes water itself. As many vamps can, the poor kindled creature becomes mist, and the vamp's vapor swirls into the smoke surrounding it. Jubilee seems to make her escape. The innocuous outside air awaits if she does.

Hellcat faces fiendish Black Talon alone. Unholy heat distorts the dastard's cocky features, making him appear even more diabolic. The horrendous heat saps Patsy's strength much like the hemorrhage from her arm. Sooty smoke stings her eyes and throat. Oddly enough, Hellcat might not be able to take this inferno, and she must laugh a little at circumstance, tortured lungs allowing.

Black Talon lunges like a raptor. Clawed glove rips costume and skin. But, the strike does not kill the Cat, for Hellcat dexterously dodges away from the swipe. She swipes back, and _her_ clawed glove rips cape and skin. The ornithic adversary squawks. Immediately, Hellcat hacks again. The rooster's bare breast bleeds bountifully.

Hellcat's own bosom burns too, however. Smoke inhalation makes her hack hard, and she must flee the fierce fires soon. Hellcat determines to drop Black Talon posthaste. The feline fighter springs, and her tornado kick fells Black Talon to the fuming floor.

Like a crafty coward, Black Talon crawls quickly away. He scrambles into the thick smoke obscuring him from Hellcat's view. With irritated eyes, she wonders where the hell he went. Whooping, Black Talon throws a Vandenberger blade from the murk. The superhero simply sidesteps. But, she still mugs as though stricken. Heat and smoke bake and suffocate Walker such that Hellcat embarrassingly swoons while struggling to stay semi-conscious. Sweat slops down her visage, and each sharp breath strains her.

"Screw this!" Patsy decides. Hellcat has to get outside. Black Talon can be taken another day.

Flames singe her costume and the flesh beneath. Gasping and grimacing, Hellcat aims a cable-claw at the rafters. She will shoot at the beams above and then swing toward where the building's one exit might be in the pother. But, before Patsy departs, another thrown knife arrives. It misses. But, the dagger is only a decoy. Distracted and half-delirious, Hellcat does not see the bone club coming to clobber her. Black Talon cracks the solid femur along cranium before Hellcat can react. The avian opponent has again snuck-up on her. On all fours, Hellcat wrathfully resolves to retaliate. But, before she does, Black Talon whacks bone across her back again and again and again. He kicks kitty hard in the stomach. His boot spikes bloody middle. Patsy slumps prone. Like a rooster, the cocky criminal raises his cape, flaps his "wings", and dances in victory. Nigh crazed, he crows his "dominance".

Disgusted, the Cat finds another life. Hissing, Hellcat arches her back. Vexed, she nimbly handstands and locks her upraised legs soundly around the rooster's neck as though she would break the braggart bird. The cocky crowing stops. She squeezes tight on the gasping goon's airway. His eyes bulge; and his tongue protrudes; and his head nearly pops. Releasing, Walker rights herself. She backhands him with a contemptuous bitchslap. Hopping high, Hellcat snapkicks Black Talon backward. Woozy, she collapses to the flaming floor.

Wheezing, Hellcat looks at supine Black Talon. Amidst the smoke, the rascal rolls over and rises still ready to fight. In the dancing flames, Samuel Barone draws a big, long machete that gleams and glows ominously. The houngan resembles Death ready to harvest a Hellcat. Black Talon raises the weapon. . . .

But, sans warning, a four-foot blade slices off Talon's sword arm. The detached appendage drops away. Samuel's starboard stump squirts and sprays sangria while he squalls and screams unreservedly.

"You are disarmed!" roars a voice above the roaring inferno.

Swinging his scythe overhead, Grim Reaper's steel shimmers in the blinding blaze surrounding him. The keen blade captivates bleeding Samuel Barone's attention as he contemplates his seemingly imminent beheading.

Black Talon addresses his attacker, "Eric, I would give my f***ing right arm for you. But, this is ridiculous."

"You tried to kill me!" shouts the enraged revenant.

Barone points his remaining index finger, "M'Baku plotted to kill you. I simply did not say anything about his treacherous designs."

"Burn, Black Talon!" the Lethal leader lets fall the big blade.

Adeptly, Grim Reaper slices the fire-repelling gris-gris from Talon without slashing his throat. In response, Barone brandishes his six-inch ceremonial dagger. In a most uneven sword fight, Grim Reaper's long scythe knocks the silly shiv aside. Wobbly with blood loss, Black Talon produces another weapon. The bone club wags in his weakening hand, waning in color. Black Talon bops Grim Reaper ineffectually about the head. In response, Grim Reaper's scythe whirs like a saw in a speedy circular motion, and it wrecks Samuel's weapon down to Barone's wrist. Bone chips painfully pelt the profligate's puss.

Abruptly , Barone's back burns awfully too. As Reaper casually points-out, "Hey pal, your back is on fire."

No longer charmed, Talon's cowl has combusted, causing quick carnage over his posterior. Frenetically, the aflame felon flings the fiery fabric from him. Feebly, Black Talon tries to fly from the Grim Reaper, but the returned Eric Williams will not be denied his black pudding. Again, Eric raises his armament. He aims it for the warehouse's rafters yet untouched by fire. From deadly device, a projectile shoots at the ceiling. Like a napalm bomb, the object explodes in an incendiary cloud that consumes the beams above, and the roof collapses atop the cocky criminal below. With silvery cyber-arm, Grim Reaper (facetiously) salutes his (likely) crushed colleague. Pivoting, the quintessential Lethal Legionnaire marches from the burning burial site.

Apparently, reports of the Grim Reaper's death have been greatly exaggerated.

A little ways from the collapsed building, Hellcat has temporarily collapsed on some steamy asphalt under the crimson setting sun. Coughing violently, the Cat spits sooty sputum, and she shivers as she controls her various hurts. Grim Reaper strolls past her. Weepy eyes watch him nonchalantly escape. Head spinning, Walker pushes to her knees, aspiring to pursue. Temples pounding, Patsy attempts standing. Ears aching, she endures arriving emergency sirens. Brakes shrilling, an ambulance bumper stops but short of cracking Hellcat's head.

Heedless Hellcat focuses on her prey. She see lawmen confront departing Grim Reaper. They would like to arrest the noted public enemy, and the police officers' drawn guns promise that they might. The supervillain points his sidearm too. In succession, bright static blasts drop security forces right and left. The cops shoot back, but their bullets bounce off the offender. He is either undead or wearing a bulletproof outfit.

Victorious Grim Reaper strolls eastward toward the Mississippi. Around him lie unconscious patrolmen. Around them, dock workers give Grim Reaper plenty of space. Away from them, a paramedic tries aiding an ailing Avenger. He approaches with a concerned look and an oxygen mask. But, the comely fighter rejects the kind fellow, to his surprise.

Unbelievably, the Cat bounces to her feet and bounds after her quarry. The preternatural Cat costume supplies Patsy with the superhuman stamina for one last desperate sprint. Sucking air, exhausted Walker runs after Williams. Somehow, he notices her closing in. Reaper runs too. Like an Olympian, he dashes over the port's wide expanses. Like a bat out of hell, he hurdles equipment and freight in his way. Like a ghost, he flits through a maze of shipping containers. Hellcat tries keeping up, but she never recalls Eric Williams being this fleet. Eventually, she thinks "to hell with it" and casts a cable-claw to a crane. She swings to the river shore that her foe has reached.

With a huge grin on her face, Happy-Go-Lucky Hellcat drops before Grim Reaper like she hasn't a care in the world. She is as amused to catch him as he is to see her catch-up. She peers at him, and he her. Panting, Patsy Walker wonders why Grim Reaper does not quite look like Eric Williams. For instance, studying the masked face, the chin and cheekbones are a bit off and. . . . .

OOPH! Reaper's sidekick strikes Hellcat's middle. Scythe ready, he states, "If you quit chasing, I won't have to halve you."

"If just quit, I won't have to humble you, you imposter," Hellcat's hand chops at the blade-bearer. He blocks her incoming arm with his steel one.

"I am the Reaper," the duelist hisses into her face.

In close quarters, the detective Defender can plainly see that someone else wears Eric Williams' costume. "You are not the Grim Reaper," she declares, "Your tactics aren't his. And, your looks are off too."

"Am I uglier than the undead?" asks the present opponent.

"Now, now, I did not say that," Patsy Walker is sensitive about appearance insults, "I was only saying . . . AACK!"

The phony's free fist slugs Patsy in the mouth. Reflexively, her free hand seizes his ferrous arm and flips him over her hip. He flops hard on cement. Sans pause, he curls his form and kicks himself into an upright position.

"Hold it," Grim Reaper holds up a hand.

"Stop? Why?" Hellcat asks puzzled.

"I have a question," the Lethal leader lilts.

"Oh?" the Avenger inquires.

"Cats like fish, right?" asks the villain.

"Actual ones do," replies the human hero.

"Have some catfish then," Grim Reaper aims his artificial appendage at Old Man River.

Like a missile, the metal limb launches from Reaper's right wing into the Mississippi. Like a depth charge, it deafeningly detonates beneath the brown water. A high plume of silt and debris erupts upward and outward. And, flopping, dying fish fly into the air and fall onto Hellcat. "Eric Williams" athletically dives under the crashing wave. He escapes. Muddy water plasters burnt, battered Patsy. It overwhelms her.

Underwater, Grim Reaper remotely summons a small submersible stowed in the river. He rides away in it. It propels toward nearby Lake Pontchartrain, an area large enough for a man to get lost in. With one hand, the supervillain steers the sub. With the other, Reaper unmasks. You see, Louis Dawson has both hands—unlike Eric Williams and, well, Samuel Barone.

Hours later, Patsy Walker scans the ceiling panels and tube lighting in a trauma center. She is doing alright. Doctors have given her some stuff for her skin, and they have patched this and that. She can breathe a bit easier than earlier. Around her, the curtain separators are teal to a somewhat calming effect. The ER is even somewhat quiet after ambulance crew and nursing staff just rushed someone past. The Cat's ears did not quite catch who that was. Patsy stiffly re-dons her costume.

"What a day," Hellcat croaks.

"I hear you," Jubilee stands in the shadows.

"You got to love it," Hellcat holds her head, checked recently for concussion.

"Oh? How's that?" Jubilee sighs a wee.

Jubilation Lee deals with her own injuries. Her body has suffered great damage. Although, as an animated dead person, the living dead girl will not be seeing hospital staff. Although, someone could take a weakened vampire to the blood bank if someone wishes. Jubilation's confidence is also dinged. And, Lee's clothes were destroyed. After escaping incineration, she had to purloin Patsy's flannel shirt and denim jeans from the truck trailer. Jubilation has also had quite a day.

Hellcat returns to her thought. "You got to love it," she rasps, "You have got to really love being a superhero if you are basically only a brave human with no powers. If you are Jen or Jessica, She-Hulk or Spider-Woman, you are some kind of invincible. You can have an Abomination buffet you badly, or you can have a Super-Skrull barrage you with everything that he has. And, you will be almost okay and recover almost instantly. But, if you are Hellcat, Black Widow, Colleen Wing, or someone like that, you take your lumps, and you take them again-and-again throughout a crimefighting career."

Fangs out, sore Jubilee is about to retort. But, Bailey walks suddenly through the curtain. Bailey, a.k.a. Attache, is another employee of Patsy Walker, a.k.a. Hellcat.

Attache announces, "They have Black Talon down the hall. Firefighters recovered him from the razed canehouse. He is alive but in very bad shape."

"Well, that's worth a look to see the burn and crush injuries," vamp Jubes leads the way.

Down the hall, there are several private rooms for major traumas, and the three ladies enter the only occupied one. They find befuddled doctors and nurses within. Black Talon has disappeared before their eyes! The severely-injured sorcerer has even left a shiny pair of handcuffs hanging from the gurney stained with his blood and char. Atop the gurney, a photo somehow now sits. Hellcat picks it up. She is amazed to see younger versions of old friends Bruce Banner and Jen Walters. The curious Cat flips it over. It reads—in magic marker—"The Lethal Legion lasts".

Patsy is surprised. Hellcat is actually a little shocked at what happens next.

Attache says, "Oh, I almost forgot. I helped the first responders pull Black Talon from beneath the rubble. My Bag of Infinite Capacity provided a portal though which to pull our critically-hurt criminal. The enchanted bag saved rescuers from digging. It also allowed me to yank another item from beneath the rubble. Voile!" Attache plucks a detached human arm from her big purse and plunks it on a sanitary counter. It should be iced should Samuel Barone return.

Between the hospital and the port, a fine hotel stands in New Orleans. In a seventh-story room, Fred Myers' cigar sits smoldering in an ashtray as he suffers on the floor. Gasping for breath, Boomerang beholds his hands swollen like balloons. The shocked assassin needs his hands to kill people. He would love to have them presently to kill snakes. Louisiana water moccasins are crawling all over him and the entire damn suite. Close-by, the Talisman of Damballah the snake spirit, Black Talon's gift, lies glowing like a beacon to every beastly ophidian in the bayou. Cotton-mouthed, Myers can neither scream in pain (of which there is plenty) nor frustration. But, Boomerang quietly swears that Black Talon will burn if the hitman survives!

Boots barely fit over Fred's feet, also bitten. However, boot jets rocket Boomerang through the room's glass window, and he escapes. Fred's fat, festering fingers can barely text James on his smartphone. Out east, James is James Sanders the Speed Demon. Sinner Myers prays that his Sinister Syndicate associate comes quickly.

If Speed Demon does, a second supervillain might be rushed down a certain hospital's hallway this eve.


	8. Chap 8: M'Baku's Tale, Part One

**Chapter 8: M'Baku's Tale, Part One**

Samuel Barone stares at the rolling surf and rising sun northwest of San Jose. Here in California, it is the dawn of a new day, and Barone certainly intends it to be the first day of the rest of his life. He sucks the seabreeze into his sore chest, still mending after being crushed. He feels the gentle sunshine painfully on his burnt skin beneath gauze. He examines his right stump. He examines his wheelchair. Black Talon considers the irony of being an invalid such as Laslo Pevely was the night that Barone helped kill him. The Terror too got to stare at the sea from his wheelchair. Black Talon experiences some sort of empathy. Of course, Laslo surveyed the turbulent Atlantic, and he got to die. Samuel has the peaceful Pacific, and he intends to live again.

To this end, Barone asks his nearby nurse, "Daniella, what time is it this lovely November morn?"

"Seven-thirty, sir," answers Daniella.

"Well, Ms. Tomaz, please roll me back to our ride so that we might return to the ranch," requests the patient.

Daniella Tomaz turns the chair, "Would you like some more eggs and coffee when we return? You need to get your strength back."

"No, I'll get my strength back another way," Black Talon replies, "It is time for that blood sacrifice that I mentioned."

The supervillain contemplates the recent past while the woman whom he hypnotized pushes him through the awakening countryside. There are grasshoppers playing on the tall dewy grass while the crickets have not quite gone to sleep. Astir mice scamper below while lively wrens flit overhead. The little creatures are all doing better than ailing Black Talon.

Ill at ease, Black Talon remembers the fiery fight with Hellcat and Grim Reaper, and he recalls the roof falling upon him. With difficulty, he recollects how, one moment, he was on a gurney in New Orleans anticipating Death's arrival. The next moment, a pair of ensorcelled silver gloves yanked him through the bier like water, and a man in a silver mask welcomed him to the Golden State.

The man Mike Nero has proven to be a great host on this grand estate near Half Moon Bay. Mike has taken care of maimed Samuel's every need. Mr. Nero hired superhumans Dansen Macabre and Gypsy Moth from San Francisco to address Black Talon's wounds. Mike has even provided Sam his full four staff and Daniella—more than Mr. Nero might realize. Over the weeks, Black Talon has hypnotized all five employees, and they are all quietly in his thrall.

Samuel reaches his left hand back to pet Daniella's cheek. He says, "We are at the SUV now. Please have Roberto load me into the vehicle."

The nurse and groundsman team-lift the evil invalid into the truck. Samuel shudders with pain at being touched. Panting and cringing, he seeks some solace. His eyes catch the supplies that he requested. On the transport's floor, there are a sack, four heavy chains, four pulleys, and a massive sheathed glaive, a pole weapon. The acquisitions do supply some solace. But, the glaive resembles Grim Reaper's scythe a bit, and the sight brings ghost pain to Black Talon's scarred stump. Samuel shudders some more. For further solace, he orders Daniella to open her shirt slightly. She does. Her ample cleavage mesmerizes the bad guy momentarily.

But, the perverted interlude is brief. Roberto speaks, "As you see, Mr. Barone, I have fetched the stuff. Are we doing that thing in the barn now?"

"Yes, take me to the stable. While he is out-of-town, I am making an animal sacrifice of Mike Nero's favorite horse," Black Talon explicates, "Nero claims that M'Baku assassinated Grim Reaper off of the Connecticut coast and that that event brought the heat on me in New Orleans. Thus, Nero has travelled to Massachusetts—where M'Baku is—to kill Man-Ape on my behalf. Well, I don't want that hit to occur just yet. I don't want that killing to occur until I speak with my long-time ally. His answers to me will decide his fate."

"But, you need to be at full strength to confront anyone," Daniella adds, "And, black magic will have Black Talon bonny sooner than black coffee. So, we eviscerate an innocent equine iniquitously."

"Joachin, Ramon, Yolanda, and I will gladly heft the tranquilized horse for you, Mr. Barone. And, we gladly accept the later horse meat that you offer," Roberto assures.

"Oh, by the way, you should know, Mr. Barone, that Yolanda and Mr. Nero chatted in bed the other evening," Nurse Tomaz informs, "Mike plans to do his hit this morning before noon Boston time."

Samuel is surprised, "S***! Enforcer is making his move within the next hour?!"

Black Talon calls Mike Nero by his criminal alias: the Enforcer.

"Yes," states the driver, "After the evil ceremony, can you magically teleport across the land a wizard?"

"F*** no! Not easily! S***!" Barone exclaims, "Just get me up to the Delazny ranch!"

Film tycoon Charles Delazny, Sr. owned this large estate before bequeathing it to Charles Delazny, Jr. who was the original Enforcer, until the Scourge assassinated him. Mike Nero is Junior's nephew and owns the Delazny ranch now.

Daniella pats Sam's remaining arm, "Don't worry. I am sure that your nefarious plot will happen just fine."

Samuel moves his arm and clutches the woman's hand. Talon holds onto his sinister hopes.

Elsewhere, She-Hulk moves her finger freely over an electronic tablet. Behind her, the Atlantic Ocean loudly crashes into the shore. The shore is a gradual sandy cliff on Cape Cod. Halfway up the embankment, She-Hulk stands with calves half-sunk into the slope. Cold ocean spray reaches her hair and skin, but Jen remains undistracted. The Avenger has an offensive to execute. Up the hill, M'Baku awaits justice.

Immediately before She-Hulk, _The Daily Bugle_ scrolls on the tablet screen; the article of interest is from a few weeks ago. An AP piece reports that the Port of New Orleans hosted a superbattle one evening in October. Heroine Hellcat combatted bad guys Black Talon and Grim Reaper across the wharf. An old building was destroyed, and Black Talon was severely injured.

Later, Black Talon wound-up at the very same hospital that Hellcat visited post-fight. But, Black Talon somehow disappeared. A little later than that, bad guy Boomerang appeared in the same ER with acute snake venom poisoning. Staff stabilized him with antidote. But, soon after that, an unholy blur burst (literally) through the ER's glass doors. Cameras show that James "Speed Demon" Sanders plowed Patsy Walker's assistant Attache into a snack machine, plastered Patsy (a.k.a. Hellcat) drinking a hot coffee, ran over Walker's ally Federigo Ravina, clipped aside Jubilation Lee keeping guard over Boomerang, snapped Boomerang's restraints and ousted his medical lines, and shot his Sinister Syndicate associate from the scene—all in about four seconds. The video footage had to be slowed-down of course. But, anyway, Boomerang disappeared too.

Upon returning to New York, Hellcat had info to add about the difficult times in the Big Easy. For example, the battle's Grim Reaper was not the real Grim Reaper, and he seemed to hate Black Talon, whom he mutilated. Hellcat mentions that Ravina got mauled too when Speed Demon flattened the bug telepath. However, Hellcat does not feel too bad for Federigo. Despite being in the area, he did not even help her when Grim Reaper was kicking her ass at the port.

She-Hulk hopes that her own present comrades prove more reliable. They should. Spider-Woman sits attentively in a tree atop the slope. Porcupine waits in the thick woods to the ladies' west. Hellcat and Stingray stand-by on a boat a distance off-shore to the east. Between the ladies and Porcupine, a spacious mansion sits, and Howard the Duck and Tara Tam operate within it. Tara is Howard's shapeshifting sidekick. All six supers should prove to be good teammates for She-Hulk. She simply awaits Howard and Tara's signal to raid the mansion.

Seven heroes should be able to subdue M'Baku and Mr. Z in the mansion and to secure the two bystanders in there with the villains. Although, in She-Hulk's mind, the two bystanders might not be "innocent bystanders" but rather bad parties.

One party Minnie Tuttle seems impeachable. Per Howard's intelligence, Ms. Tuttle seems implicated in some of M'Baku's recent criminal actions. Incognito Tara has heard similar scuttlebutt.

The other party is the nurse who entered the residence this morning. Per Jen Walters' instincts, something is not right about him. Experienced detective Spider-Woman also intuitively got bad vibes watching him arrive from nearby North Truro, Massachusetts. But, the shifty character could be only a caregiver for Mr. Z, a.k.a. the ancient WC Tuttle.

After all, WC Tuttle is one hundred years old, and he needs a caregiver. Despite his collection of arcane stuff and powerful artifacts, Mr. Z appears to be still a frail fogey in failing health who cannot cheat the Grim Reaper, so to speak. So reports the Duck and Tam. But, who knows? She-Hulk knows that Silvermane, Red Skull, and the Mole Man are all troublemaking old-timers who each found the right bizarre bauble to beat death. Perhaps, Mr. Z did too.

But, the Sensational She-Hulk is ever cheerful, and she can always be optimistic that a mission holds no surprises. She-Hulk does not need Black Talon, the new Grim Reaper, good ol' Boomerang, Speed Demon, or anyone else crashing the party. She does not need Mr. Z becoming "the Crusher" or something. To relax, Jen gazes over the undulating Atlantic under the eleven o'clock sun. Howard the Duck should be preparing brunch within the mansion.

In the mansion's parlor, M'Baku gazes into his steaming tea. The white teacup is quite old, and so is the pale, wrinkly man sitting across from M'Baku. WC Tuttle has the languid eyes and labored breathing expected of a centenarian. Beside Tuttle, his nurse Del stands attentively. Del has the scanning eyes and rigid motions of a warrior. M'Baku notices. Across from WC and Del, Hedy Wolfe sits on the loveseat with M'Baku. They are another interesting pair.

Unsolicited, Hedy's lotioned hand touches M'Baku's firm arm. "Have you seen my cousin Minnie?" she inquires.

"I strangled her, and she lies dead in an upstairs bedroom" is what the Man-Ape would like to say. But, he does not confess to Minnie's murder at this time. Earlier, his host's daughter had attempted joining "her man" in bed. After weeks of playing her, the trespasser was tired of mark Minnie. So, he put her permanently asleep. The action was a little rash and unplanned. But, Man-Ape _had_ planned to eventually slaughter everyone in the mansion—Minnie, Hedy, WC, the housestaff, now the visiting nurse—anyway. Thus, the Wakandan Wildman can simply get some good brunch caffeine and sugar in him before executing his murderous rampage in about twenty minutes. After the carnage, M'Baku can sack the estate. There is some interesting stuff here.

"I saw Minnie this morning," M'Baku truthfully tells, "She is probably upstairs asleep."

"My cousin Minnie is funny," Hedy giggles, "In fact, I remember when she used to visit Patsy Walker and me out in Centerville, California [see _Patsy and Hedy_ #89]. She was a recluse one minute and a diva the next. Minnie would be both shy and arrogant enough to nap while her kin visits."

"Minerva can unwisely try a person," M'Baku replies,

Hedy Wolfe's giggle becomes a full howl of laughter. Wolfe paws and pats her companion's huge hand while her lips curl into a toothy smile. "Oh my!" Hedy ejaculates.

M'Baku forces a smile across his features. As Hedy continues chortling, he pours hot chai between his gritted teeth. Tittering, Hedy notices the tilted teacup, and she suddenly stands.

"Do you know what goes well with tea, sweetie?" Wolfe warbles, "Some sweets. I shall get some scones and jam."

Hedy's high heels swiftly tap down the hallway outside of the parlor. M'Baku is glad to be rid of the hysterical Hedy. He rolls his eyes and pours more caffeine. The cart for tea has also java from Sumatra, and M'Baku switches to that.

"I did not think that Minnie's sleepy head was so funny either," WC comments, "But, her cousin apparently thinks that it is."

"Yes, that display was over-the-top," remarks M'Baku. An experienced intelligencer notices when someone puts on an act. M'Baku also notices that WC's attendant notices Hedy's excessive antics. The man's eyes consider the doorway to the hall as though he considers following her.

WC interjects, "Hedy's mother Virginia used to laugh easily, but then I went to prison during her adolescence. I guess Virginia got more serious after that."

"I assumed that you were a hard man," Man-Ape acknowledges, "You ordered the death of Laslo Pevely."

"Laslo Pevely is the s-o-b who put me in prison away from my family," WC wheezes and coughs. The aide wipes away some spit.

WC composes himself. Mr. Tuttle narrates, "Around 1942 I was Mr. Z the mobster. Fellow mobster Bull Murdock and I had a pretty good scam going. As a legitimate businessman, I would sell the wealthy life insurance. Then, Bull and his gang would invade their homes, make them sign over their insurance, and f***ing kill them. Afterward, Bull would provide me a cut. The set-up was kind of a lark [see _Mystic Comics_ #10]."

"I enjoy killing and stealing for their own sakes too," M'Baku admits.

The geezer gangster wheezes a chuckle. He continues, "Anyway, the Terror got wind of our business, and he decided to do some business with us of his own. As gentleman Laslo Pevely, he bought insurance from me. As the Terror, he took down Murdock and his whole gang when they invaded Pevely Manor. Unfortunately, I had tagged along to witness this job. Thus, the Terror took me down too.

The courts sent me away for a long time for conspiracy to commit murder. However, conspiracy is not first-degree homicide itself. So, I got out around the time that Hedy's friend Patsy Walker first donned her Hellcat costume."

"And, you began saving millions for a hit on Laslo Pevely," M'Baku guesses.

"Correct," Mr. Z lets Man-Ape know that he guesses correctly, "I also began curating this and that special item for eliminating superheroes. For example, I always have this adamantium letter opener nearby. It can pierce any armor or armored skin, but it looks an everyday implement." A shaky hand lifts the small, shiny opener off an end table beside Z.

"So, you could go to the Baxter Building and stick anyone from Willie Lumpkin to the Thing with the letter opener," jokes the home aide. He snatches the mini-scimitar from Z's hand as though Del would raid Reed Richards with the mighty small blade.

"Who is Willie Lumpkin?" M'Baku asks.

"He is the Fantastic Four's mailman," answers the aide.

M'Baku finds it interesting that a medical assistant would know such. Playing it cool, Man-Ape extends his powerful paw and requests the item of interest. The attendant hands M'Baku the stiletto to examine. The giant sets the adamantium sticker aside. The behemoth does not need any weapon to mutilate a possible hostile.

Meekly, wheezing WC claws the oxygen mask kept beside him. The "nurse" helps him don it. With O2 on, Tuttle quips something about "getting my wind". M'Baku does not quite catch the quip. A boney finger points to a hutch cabinet in the parlor. On a shelf, a cast iron mask and a tallow candle sit, both distinctly older than the antique knickknacks around them.

Del's eyes light-up upon seeing the two artifacts, and M'Baku notices the micro-expression. The incognito agent is not lacking of a good poker face. It's just that veteran villain Man-Ape has been around bad company for a good long time.

"What are those?" M'Baku rises from the couch.

Del dares step between the Man-Ape and the objects. He dares yell upward, "WC says those are for summoning someone called the Wind Witch. The Wind Witch is someone who can kick Wakandans' asses such as that of your queen Ororo Munroe, Storm."

M'Baku's lids narrow and nostrils flare—in amusement. He towers over the six-foot enforcer, but Man-Ape will not drop Del yet. The brute would like his scones before offing anyone, and he wonders when Wolfe will return with them all ready. Biding his time, Man-Ape crashes his big ass back onto the loveseat.

Smirking, the Wakandan renegade states, "Storm is not my queen, and Black Panther is not my king. But, I can see why you would throw someone called the Wind Witch at the weather witch and the windbag."

A guffaw punctuates M'Baku's words. A hacking chuckle complements it from Tuttle. Sighing, the nurse stoically helps Tuttle who starts gasping hard after laughing a little. Del stirs honey into some tea while staring down Man-Ape. The caregiver offers the soothing drink to WC; however, the elderly gent becomes most agitated.

"What the f*** have you done?!" Tuttle gasps, "That spoon is not to be used in such a manner!"

"The utensil is unfit to stir pekoe?" the caregiver asks.

"It is the Lazarus spoon!" Z exclaims with unexpected life.

"What the hell is the Lazarus spoon?" asks the aide. He scrutinizes the silverware, which appears to be stainless steel from the modern era. It is neither mainly precious metal nor antique.

"It is a 1990s artifact!" pronounces Z, "A potentially powerful relic!"

"What is it used for? Digging the Lazarus pit from a peach?" the ersatz orderly sloppily slurps the honey from the spoon.

"No, there once was a powerful telekinetic dubbed Lazarus," utters the irritated old man, "He fought the Incredible Hulk [see _Incredible Hulk Annual_ #19] and nearly shot that spoon through the beast. But, the Hulk slammed that silverware through Lazarus' eye into his f***ing brain instead."

"Does the object have any, like, magic in it?" the aide asks.

"It could have some mojo in it. You never know," comments the collector.


	9. Chap 9: M'Baku's Tale, Part Two

**Chapter 9: M'Baku's Tale, Part Two**

"Are the scones spiked with poison?" Hedy Wolfe enters the kitchen of Tuttle Mansion.

Howard the Duck hops half-way to the ceiling. He did not expect anyone to sneak-up on him, and he certainly did not expect anyone to announce his sneaky activities. The Duck fetches his chef's hat from the floor, and he un-ruffles his feathers.

Howard huffs, "Jesus, Tara, you are some spook!"

Shapeshifter Tara Tam transforms from Hedy Wolfe to Tara. "Apologies," Howard's assistant offers, "But, how are our laced pastries progressing? I promised to serve them in the parlor soon."

The anthropomorph opens the oven, "They are baked golden brown and delicately drizzled with quack-rare from Duckworld."

"Here on Earth, we say curare," Tara contributes.

"Well, either way, it is a powerful paralytic that should even enfeeble a Man-Ape," Howard uses hotpads, "Try not to have Mr. Z eat too many treats, though. Age has enfeebled him as is, and I would not want our sweets stopping his dark heart."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want cardiac arrest to take a decrepit crime-boss," Tam quips, "His actual end should be much worse."

The Duck waves a downy digit, "We are heroes, Tara."

Scoffing, Tara swipes piling pastries onto a plate. She expresses, "I am glad to conclude this wild goose chase, Howard. Over the last month, we have seen neither hide nor hair of Grim Reaper."

"Well, sometimes, an explosion can destroy both hide and hair," the bird banters, "And, Eric Williams might have died in one."

"Do you want to bet on that?" asks Tam.

"No, the Lethal Legion tends to last, especially the group's leader," Howard the Duck's bill pecks at cookiesheet crumbs, "Back at our Brooklyn office, Biggs the Cyber-Cat did some on-line research. Grim Reaper has been supposedly offed often. And, when someone does actually off him, someone else usually brings him back. Black Talon or Nekra tend to resurrect Eric Williams."

Tara lifts the plate, "Yeah, and when Williams goes missing, others apparently put on the funny costume. Hellcat encountered an able ersatz Grim Reaper in New Orleans."

Howard opens some cooking sherry, "Well, Hellcat at least encountered a Grim Reaper. Our ally Stingray looked for Grim Reaper in Block Island Sound, where Mandrill reported Williams disappeared. Stingray found scraps of a submarine—but not of a supervillain."

Tara pivots toward the exit, "Well, we too have searched high and low, Duck. I just hope that Grim Reaper does _not_ show-up here today by some marvelous coincidence."

"We veteran superheroes know to expect such," Howard slurps sherry, "Don't worry. Around this mansion, our assembled group has seven good guys to take down two or three baddies: Man-Ape, elderly Mr. Z, and 'terrible' Minnie Tuttle. Even a surprise Grim guest shouldn't give us any more trouble than the thug cook that Spider-Woman k. when we took over the kitchen." Howard indicates the bound and gagged goon on the floor.

"Spider-Woman and Porcupine have been useful to us," Tara enters the hallway, "They gave us a mission when we couldn't find Williams. They simply let us join them when they tracked Man-Ape to New England."

"Let us be useful to them," states Tam's boss.

Tam walks toward the parlor. Tara becomes Hedy as she saunters.

Howard the Duck sets aside the sherry and lights a cigar on the gas range. He smokes to settle his nerves before things go down. On the floor, "Stymie" Schmidt stirs. The hoodlum stares up at Howard. Ever a little rude, the Duck taps some stogie ash down upon Stymie's scalp. The Ideahive sleuth snickers. It figures that Mr. Z would hire a lowlife such as Stewart Schmidt. Stymie has been a career flunky for the likes of the Fixer (the small-time gangster, not the supervillain) and Trump (the d-list supervillain not the a.u. MODOK). In public records, Biggs the Cyber-Cat found out everything about this loser who went from habitual Hell's Kitchen troublemaker to Tuttle's kitchen head. The small hero smacks Stymie alongside the head and strolls into the scullery. The sideroom contains some item that Howard stowed. Howard the Duck opens a cupboard and removes the equipment. He takes the gear into the adjacent room.

"What have we here?" Howard the Duck asks Schmidt who starts sweating.

A short distance away. "What have we here?" M'Baku asks. His huge hand palms a picture frame.

Taken from a bookshelf, the frame contains an old newspaper clipping, quite yellowed. In a faded pic, Battling Jack Murdock and teenaged Ben Grimm pose with gloves up at a Yancy Street Boys Club. A blind kid sits serenely on the ring steps behind them. The caption reads "It is clobbering time". The Thing is much more famous than prizefighter Battling Jack now, and M'Baku ponders how one never knows where one goes in life. Murdock died years ago by the Fixer's hand (the small-time gangster, not the supervillain), and his legend faded. Grimm lived to become a colossus and wonder among men and the idol of millions.

"You never know in life," WC seemingly knows the Wankandan's thoughts, "Ben Grimm went from s***ty circumstances to fantastic ones beyond most f***ing imaginations."

"Well said," M'Baku comments glibly.

WC continues, "My boy Wilbur, Jr. gave me that collectible when I got out of prison. Junior wanted me to know that I could rise again just as pugilist Murdock often had to. Just as Grimm rose when he flew all of the way from lower Manhattan to the farthest reaches of the cosmos."

Unexpectedly, Senior drools. Abashed, he clears spittle with his fingers. M'Baku notices that the nurse present does not caringly clean his charge any. Rather, Del reaches into a doctor's bag for something likely not a wipe.

WC continues again, "However, I did not need the stupid motivational gift. Vengeance already drove me. It drove me every day in prison and every day until Laslo Pevely died. The Terror was going to pay for ruining my life. Pevely cost a Tuttle his freedom and reputation, and an immigrant's son does not do that to a New England blue blood.

That f***ing cur cost me my family. When I got out, my dear daughter Virginia lived across the country in Centerville, California, and she had a girl Hedy whom I hardly knew. Junior's kid Minnie lived here on Cape Cod. But, she was a stranger—until Junior died and Minnie needed money and a home.

Fortunately, Tuttles have always been good at making money. And, fortunately, I personally have always been good at conspiracy to commit murder. So, even a convicted felon could make back his fortune. He need only get his hands dirty as a money launderer, antiquities smuggler, pornographer, university regent, and financial advisor. Eventually, I amassed enough money for a hit on that horrid Hungarian."

"You knew that you would get your shot," Nurse Del comments.

"Yeah, something like that," Tuttle grins toothlessly.

"I knew that you would get your shot too," the nurse lifts the medical bag. For a moment, the confused invalid wonders whether he has forgotten about a B-12 or testosterone injection.

The bag drops. The nurse discharges a gun through his patient's old head. The silvery semi-auto sends sanguine stuff and cerebrum over fine furnishing. Skull smoking, wicked WC Tuttle drops dead. Mr. Z lies expressionless on expensive Kurdish carpet, and M'Baku stands expressionless over his corpse.

Across the room, "Hedy Wolfe" stands shocked upon witnessing the whacking of her "grandfather". And, within Hedy's head, Tara Tam wonders what the hell that she should do now. The aspiring amateur hero dumbly gapes aghast.

Grabbing her arm, Man-Ape gets Tara's attention, "Hey, wench, are those scones warm? If so, Chief M'Baku of the Jabari tribe would like you to feed him a few before I deal with you, the dead guy, and Deadshot Del, the duplicitous assassin."

Unexpectedly, a shot shatters the plate and scatters the scones.

"You ruined my snack!" Man-Ape snarls.

Del explains, "She likely doped them to incapacitate you. I would have, and I am the Enforcer, famous hitman."

"Who?" Man-Ape imitates an owl.

''The Enforcer," Mike Nero waves his "famous" silver pistol.

"Scourge's first victim?" M'Baku asks.

"No! I'm that guy's nephew," Nero states, "Now, let's kill Hedy like you did her cousin upstairs."

Gasping, Hedy impotently kicks off her high heels at the Enforcer. She turns to run. As she turns, Tara Tam turns into her true form too. Just maybe, the remarkable transformation will distract the deadly duo and buy her a second. Just maybe, it will startle M'Baku into releasing his strong grip. But, M'Baku just jerks her from the floor and scrapes her across the room's low ceiling. He slams Tara down through the loveseat's top into its interior. Steel springs provide a harsh, uneven, and unpleasant landing.

"Get stuffed, you shapeshifting sneak!" M'Baku insults.

In her back, Tara feels intruding metal. In her bones, Tam feels the terrific impact. Before passing out, the wolf in Wolfe's clothing hits a panic button hidden on her person. Her six companions should extricate her really soon. Just maybe, they will save the intrepid, hurt heroine.

Two thousand feet away, She-Hulk sees the distress signal on her tablet. She signals Spider-Woman down the shore. Instantly, Spider-Woman springs from the high elm and sprints for the mansion. Before following, She-Hulk sends hastily Stingray and Hellcat a message. They are to bring the boat closer to the cape, but they are not to land. Rather, Walter Newell and Patsy Walker are to maintain a look-out on the operation's eastern perimeter. Spider-Woman and She-Hulk have got the situation in the house—unless the heroines become damsels-in-distress. Then, Newell and Walker should come running.

In the house, plucky Howard the Duck pops into the parlor. He is a small alien with a huge raygun, a device acquired from Cleveland's Dynatechnics. Quite bad-ass, the quacker doesn't even hesitate before blowing huge M'Baku through the parlor's wide window. The blast rockets the criminal three football fields westward.

Brambles and tree branches buffet and abuse M'Baku flying through them. He bounces and tumbles over hard November soil before coming to rest. In the woods, Porcupine's peepers go wide. Roger Gocking got Tara Tam's alert, but he had not expected trouble to come to him about twenty feet away. Porcupine bravely rushes the Man-Ape.

But then, Grim Reaper drops from a bough above. Porcupine stops. Reaper strikes an electric bolt into gawking Gocking's chest, and the scintillating sustained arc shakes Porcupine and his needles like a rattle. With a crunch, the scrub drops into the fallen autumn foliage.

Grim Reaper turns to M'Baku and grins. Man-Ape growls back and beats his chest.

The Lethal Leader brandishes his big blade, "Your fun is over, usurper! I have foiled death, so prepare to meet your fate as dead meat!" Grim Reaper swishes his scythe.

M'Baku sniffs contemptuously, "I see that your face and physique are funny. You're a phony. The real Eric Williams really is fish food at fifteen fathoms."

"Forsooth, I am back on my feet and neither a phantasm nor facsimile," the returned Reaper insists.

"In fact, you are a fraud," M'Baku asserts arms crossed, "Fair warning. You can either flee from here or have to unfortunately fight M'Baku, the mighty Man-Ape. Fear me. I have torn punks like you to pieces—literally."

Right wing raised, Grim Reaper crackles coruscating current through his armament. Through gritted teeth, he growls, "Pshaw! I think I'll fry me some Ape!"

"I think I'll flay me some Reaper!" the pongid polypheme flexes full, formidable flesh and forms fists.

"Not if I fillet you first, f***face!" Reaper flips M'Baku the phalange.

"Fat chance, I'll flatten you and fling you like feces far from this forest, fool!" the furry fury foams at the mouth.

Fire flashes in four eyes. Two gazes fix. Nostrils flare. Skin flushes. Feelings foment, and brows (i.e. foreheads) fume. (Perhaps, two asses flatulate). And, forthwith, the furious foes fly forward to fight.

To the east, Howard the Duck howls like Tarzan, the King of the Apes, having banished M'Baku through a bay window. The good fowl boldly brandishes his blaster high and pounds a victory dance around the parlor. Unimpressed, Enforcer simply shoots the gun aside, from Howard's hand. The assassin aims his semi-auto between the animal adventurer's eyes.

"Heh-heh-heh. I'm going duck hunting," Enforcer imitates a cartoon.

Instantly, Howard nimbly ducks down and flies forward. Before Nero can react, the 2' 7" blur seizes his wrist and chops the firearm free from his hand. "I know quack-fu!" declares the Duck.

Hopping back, Howard takes the crane stance. Feeling a little foolish, Enforcer takes a fighting position as well. And, well, a tumult ensues.

Above the parlor, Spider-Woman silently slips into a second-story window. Beneath her, the heroine hears a fight occurring. Around her, a Wakandan reprobate's possessions lie strewn about, and a dead woman lies sprawled on the bed. Spider-Woman hopes—for M'Baku's sake-that the brute did not "take" the woman before killing her. But, under any circumstances, Spider-Woman will be an Avenger. M'Baku will pay for murdering old men such as Laslo and women such as Minnie.

Leapfrogging the two-story manor, She-Hulk sensationally lands in the residence's west yard, outside of the parlor. She intends to turn around, assess Tara and Howard's situation, and enter any fray in the Tuttle place.

But, before Shulkie moves, a boom sounds behind her. From the woods, M'Baku flies as though shot by a cannon. In a ball, Man-Ape strikes the green earth near She-Hulk. He grunts, groans, and grimaces in the indented ground. The Jade Giantess approaches the crater. To her surprise, she spots several substantial stab wounds in M'Baku's tough hide.

"Hey, you've been stabbed. How did that happen?" She-Hulk probes.

"Kind of like this," M'Baku answers.

The Wakandan huntsman hurls a knife from his belt. He purloined the adamantium letter opener earlier while chatting up an unobservant old man. Coming in, the object resembles a child's sparkly pinwheel, and Shulkie expects it to bounce off like a toy. Instead, the unstoppable blade does to She-Hulk's impenetrable skin what an exceptional scythe did to M'Baku's façade. She gasps when stabbed.

But, sans hesitation, She-Hulk swipes out the surprise sticker and flings the stiletto all the way into Cape Cod Bay, two miles away. Scarlet streams from squared shoulder to clenched fist.

"Prick," She-Hulk snarls, "Get up and fight."

Snickering, M'Baku stays reclined, "Don't you want to know who sent me across the sky just now? It was not that putz Porcupine. I assure you."

She-Hulk stomps to Man-Ape. By him, she slams her foot down unreservedly. The savage groundstrike pops-up the pongid pug. She-Hulk punches M'Baku right back into the hole.

"Okay, beside me, who else has messed you up today?" she asks.

Maltreated M'Baku points. The Grim Reaper races forward with his jumbo razor held high. He jeers, "M'Baku, you fink, you failed to fell me. Your flailing fins and flurry of feet were utterly ineffective against my awful arm."

"I'faith, I should have tossed that dagger at you," M'Baku acknowledges, "Adamantium could have severed steel from an irritating adversary. But, oh well, I'll just have to rip your arm off instead."

Grim Reaper stops short of M'Baku, "Actually, you may have the armed arm."

Unexpectedly, Reaper fires the prosthetic from his person into the sky. She-Hulk sees that _this_ Reaper has a right hand, and she suspects that this Reaper is the Reaper who Hellcat encountered in New Orleans. She has only seconds to contemplate anything, however.

The odd projectile returns to earth, and it simply sticks upright in the ground. She-Hulk and M'Baku look at the loaded long lawndart. She-Hulk and M'Baku wonder what occurs now. . . . .

Two minutes earlier, Enforcer dons a silver and blue costume in the house. He dons a silver mask similar to one stored on Commander Kraken's destroyed sub. Howard the Duck lies unconscious on the parlor floor. Sometimes, the bigger opponent beats the brave bird in a brawl. Enforcer considers killing Howard. But, Mike Nero remembers that the Duck once had the giblets to run for U.S. President on a lark. In Enforcer's opinion, we need more clownish candidates like that. So, the hitman simply holsters his two handguns to his hips, and he steps into the hallway.

Turning left, Enforcer treks toward the abode's foyer and front door. Outside the door, there is a Man-Ape. And, the assassin came all the way here to eliminate him. Nero strokes his sidearm and smiles.

Suddenly, Spider-Woman snipes Enforcer from the winder stairs overlooking the foyer. Her venom-blast knocks him on his ass. The heroine hops over the railing ready to fight this foe appareled as her old enemy. Enforcer stands, and she slugs him. He staggers, seeing spots. Spider-Woman slaps him—twice.

Miffed, Enforcer draws and cocks both pistols. . . . .


	10. Chap 10: M'Baku's Tale, Part Three

**Chapter 10: M'Baku's Tale, Part Three**

Enforcer barely aims before Spider-Woman boots him airborne into the interior corridor's close quarters. Enforcer bounces off of a wall, breaks an overhanging light, and bumps the opposite wall before meeting the floor.

Nearly out on the carpet, Enforcer knows that he must retaliate quickly. His fleet-footed foe is almost upon him again. In a nanosecond, Nero discharges both guns as Drew grabs the knave by the neck-nape. Incredibly, the two shots seemingly miss—until they whiz around and sting Spider-Woman in the shoulders. Her superhuman durability suppresses the flesh wounds only so much. Drew releases rascal Nero. Immediately, he vigorously pistol-whips her with both butts.

"Slap me before, will you?!" Enforcer rails, "The new Enforcer has recently wrecked the Wrecking Crew [see _Dark Reign: Made Men_ ] and now he's going to wreck you!"

Promptly, swift hands effortlessly block incoming swats. Spider-Woman queries, "You successfully fought the Wrecking Crew with your enchanted ammo, you say?"

"Yeah, and the Hood!" buffeting brigand brags.

"The Avengers beat those five f***-ups all of the time," Spider-Woman casually comments, "We do it like so."

Jessica's jab pops straight through her enemy's swinging arms and punches him past the parlor, where Howard and Tara lie leveled, and clear to the kitchen, where Stymie lies ligatured. Enforcer actually lies limply k. for an instant. Spider-Woman studies the supervillain, slugged sixteen yards down the mansion hall. The supine, slack scoundrel seems unconscious. So, Spider-Woman strolls toward the parlor from which Tara Tam sent a distress signal. Jess Drew just sighs. First, Hellcat encounters a new Grim Reaper, and now Spider-Woman meets a new Enforcer. The good woman wonders when certain bad men will remain put down.

Suddenly, "inert" Enforcer pops-up and fires at will wildly. Instantly, Enforcer empties both clips. The silver semi-autos spray a swarm of tracers upon the Avenger. Around Spider-Woman, sixteen bullets rip and whiz and—preternaturally—track. Ms. Drew marvelously dances and dodges to avoid them.

The superheroine hulas around the hallway so that speeding bullets penetrate the walls' plaster instead of her. The Lady Liberator leaps, and lead lodges in the floor. But, near the ceiling, circling shots sting her in succession. She lands and, pained, pirouettes making some rounds intercept and obliterate each other. Deftly, Jess Drew spins beneath the spiraling shots. Some more mash into each other. However, other circling caps continue to find her flesh, gravely contusing it. Frenetically, Spider-Woman runs up the corridor wall with her fast feet, and bullets take-out other targets than her. They shatter a Chinese vase on the floor, shred Cimmerian chainmail hung on the wall, and strike ornate cornice. Arachne somersaults backward and sprints down the hall's opposite side. Ammo explodes an Incan idol on a hanging shelf and riddles Trojan trinkets on an antique teapoy.

Looking on, Enforcer smirks. He stands. Pistols in hand, he pops both clips from both grips. He grabs another magazine from his belt and reloads one weapon.

Down the way, Spider-Woman shields herself futilely from flying fire. An opened oak door deflects some rounds, but other rounds simply go around. Like wasps, a buzzing, blazing barrage of bullets sting her arms, bite her legs, slice her belly, scourge her back, and brush through her hair—messing it. Irritated, Spider-Woman rips the oak door from its hinges. She swings the solid slab in a swift circle and lodges most remaining lead into it. The Mighty Avenger slings the slab down the hall, and it almost spears Enforcer.

Amused, Enforcer aims his gun, "I think I'll splatter a Spider-Woman." His new specialized ammo is highly explosive.

Downrange, Spider-Woman skips a jig amidst the three remaining tracking tracers. Enforcer steadies his sight. Suddenly, Spider-Woman drops, and she skids herself strongly backward on her stomach. And, Nero needs to reacquire her. Suddenly, Drew's enhanced arms thrust her through the air and onto the foyer. Three magic missiles pursue her pell-mell. One ricochets off the door of the elevator to the second-floor, and it drops mashed. Another projectile pierces two paintings hung near the entryway. One is a Steve Rogers sketch of a young WC Tuttle in the early '40s, and its companion is a Peter Rasputin of WC and Minnie many, many years later. Jessica dodges the last bullet, and it busts apart on the begonia pot behind her.

"Look out, girl! Here comes the money-shot!" Enforcer announces from near the kitchen, the passage's north end.

At the passage's opposite end, Jessica fumes in the foyer, for Spider-Woman cannot leap to Enforcer in a single bound. Instead, she must take cover. The semi-auto cracks. Spider-Woman springs to the staircase from which she earlier sprang. To her right, the occult ordinance blasts the manor's front façade like an artillery shell. Solid carpentry and masonry spray upon the granite steps before the home, and Jess comprehends the newly-introduced unholy ammo's capabilities. Detective Drew also instantly deduces Enforcer's next target. Spider-Woman hops the bannister just as Enforcer obliterates the staircase. The concussion flings the heroine high amidst a cloud of slivers and shrapnel. Her back and backside hit the foyer floor hard.

But, she bounces to her boots immediately.

Smiling, Enforcer strides toward Spider-Woman. His silver rod glints from several rods away. He cocks his weapon again. Before befuddled Jess can move, Nero squeezes off one to dispatch.

Elsewhere, Grim Reaper's scythe makes M'Baku and She-Hulk woeful west of Tuttle Manor. Moments before, Grim Reaper rocketed his right appendage into the sky. On the ground, She-Hulk and M'Baku wondered what was up with the launched armament. Then, the bolt returned to the ground, and they learned to their regret. The scythe—standing stuck in the ground—emits a sonic attack so awful that it overwhelms two marvels. The destructive din jiggles their viscera and jars their hearts. It jogs the titans' very bones and jangles their every nerve. The assault jumbles their brains, jams any thought, and disjoins their consciousness. She-Hulk slumps down and savagely screams against the stifling shriek. Still in his crater, M'Baku moans and mugs miserably as spit jets from his mouth and blood generates from his injured ears. Juicy junk issues from M'Baku's maw. It looks like tea.

Jerk Reaper just looks on unaffected at his jacked opponents. Severe sound jostles the Jade Giantess like a jelly geegaw. Grim Reaper grins a grating grin as she grittily advances and growls. She-Hulk tries leaping at her foe. But, her distressed sinews fail. Her joints fold, and she falls facedown at Reaper's feet. Grim Reaper gazes upon the green lady laid-out on the gray autumn grass. Shaken Shulkie struggling to stand is beautiful, but she is not the most amusing sight that the villain sees. Rather, Reaper is most aroused at how well his retooled weapon works. The scythe's sonic device works excellently after installation. It targets hostiles while leaving Grim Reaper soundly unaffected. Louis Dawson believes that original Reaper Eric Williams could not have possibly redesigned (with Ms. Hayes' help) the Grim Reaper weapon so well.

Then, sans warning, the shuddering metal shatters. Unexpectedly, the agitated armament explodes sending shards of steel speeding out. Some slice M'Baku in the pit. Other pieces pelt She-Hulk's hard hide. One spears Reaper's right hand, and he shivers in pain. Ironically, Dawson realizes that Eric Williams would not have had a right hand to skewer. Angered, Reaper studies the spreading, dripping scarlet and damns natural resonance.

Then, nature itself assaults him. A speedball of earth slams Reaper off his feet and onto his face. Dawson realizes that he is not the only one angry here. A steamed She-Hulk shoves a massive mound of soil toward the troublemaker, and the pile pins him to the ground. Great green gams stride to the (possibly) soon-to-be-sorry supervillain.

Vicinally, villain Enforcer also approaches prey. He would squash a spider. And, the Web-Lady lies pinned under some ceiling that explosive bullets brought down. Overhead, an autumn draft drops onto Spider-Woman pressed against the cold foyer floor. As Spider-Man would, Spider-Woman resolutely shifts the rubble under which an old foe put her. By will, she raises her upper half from the wreckage. Spider-Woman watches Enforcer.

Surprisingly, Enforcer holsters his handgun, and he turns left into the room from which Spider-Woman removed the door. Quickly, he comes back out, and he brings a big sheet of dust bunny with him. A yard from Spider-Woman, Enforcer stoops and smears strange symbols on the floor.

"What you doing?" the detective inquires. Drew wonders whether he expects her to sneeze while lifting the heavy rubble.

"Preparing your doom, my dear," Nero drolly replies, "Mr. Tuttle, in his gentile poverty, has not had a cook in years, so there is copious dust in her room that one would not want to go to waste."

"You could have visited the debris where I am," the Web-Lady quips. Her hand burns blue with the static-electric venom bite that she would love to deliver.

"Why visit your web when I have you in mine?" Enforcer quips back.

The supervillain opens a closet door. It blocks Jess' view of him. But, the superheroine's heightened hearing discerns him striking several matches. Fifteen seconds later, wisps of smoke float from combusting cloth. Before Jess' eyes, they rise in the corridor. Enforcer reappears and partially closes the closet.

"Do you plan to cook me, crook?" Jessica comments, "Because the fire sure can't spread faster than I can free myself." Spider-Woman's joints crack as she tosses aside significant, cumbrous ceiling. She straightens-up to her knees. Her trapped boots should be kicking Enforcer's ass soon.

"No, the element of fire won't get you," Enforcer assures, "But, the wind will."

Drew wonders what Nero means. From his leg pouch, he removes an iron mask that he pilfered from the manor parlor after Howard and Tara were unconscious and WC was dead. Raising the visage, Nero commences chanting as though he might bloviate Drew to death. To the left, an alit tallow candle unnaturally stokes itself and consumes the cloakroom accoutrements hanging over it. Even more sinisterly, the burgeoning flame summons something in the cool fall breeze.

Breaking her feet free, Spider-Woman spreads her glider wings wide like a terror, and she lunges for Enforcer. However, he but boldly bellows, "Come Clothilde, the Wind Witch!"

What?

Out in the open, She-Hulk unmasks Grim Reaper. By the collar, she uproots Louis Dawson from the dirt mound. Dangling Dawson impotently hurls gravel at the great, green amazon. Then, he desperately pulls her hair hard. But, she doesn't even grimace. Growling, he grabs her wrist and futilely attempts breaking her grip. Finally, he has the grapes to dislodge the shiv from his palm and ineffectually peck Shulkie.

She-Hulk grows impatient. Jen Walters grills, "You are Louis Dawson who visited my Brooklyn law office recently. Why are you wearing the Grim Reaper outfit?"

"I am the Reaper!" Dawson announces with wide-eyed madness.

"My buddy Luke Cage said that you say 'I am the Reaper' a lot," Jen Walters acknowledges, "Power Man and Iron Fist encountered you once [see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #109]. You were a pest and a menace then too."

Reaper replies, "I am no menace to society. I am a redresser of wrongs just as you. In fact, Tony Stark nearly invited me into the Avengers Initiative."

"If you are a hero such as me, why did you attack me?" Walters queries.

"Because you were in the wrong," Dawson bravely retorts, "You would have interfered in my elimination of Man-Ape—who's escaping!"

Sans hesitation, Reaper produces a huge handgun from his cape. The massive revolver could drop a water buffalo. Louis cocks it and raises it over Jen's shoulder. Glancing over her shoulder, She-Hulk sees M'Baku booking northward into the distance.

Glancing at the great gun, She-Hulk states, "Don't fire that thing. I have an ear ache."

"He's getting away!" Reaper reiterates.

"Let him," says She-Hulk, "Spider-Woman, Howard the Duck, Hellcat, Stingray, or Porcupine each might apprehend him. I came prepared." Within, Jen wonders where the hell her help is.

"Oh yeah?" Reaper redirects the whopping weapon at She-Hulk's visage. Her eyeball stares straight down a .50.

Jen rolls selfsame orb, "Don't bother. I'm bulletproof." A herculean hand seizes the eight-inch barrel, and a pinky crumples steel like tin.

"Besides, it is illegal for a felon to have a gun," Attorney Walters advises.

She-Hulk shakes and bobs Reaper violently. The dizzy dastard drops the blunderbuss from his bleeding hand. Still, determined, Louis produces a jackknife, one of his few remaining weapons. Three inches of sticker threatens She-Hulk.

Disturbed Dawson shouts, "I am the Reaper!"

She-Hulk shakes her head, "Iron Man considered you for the Initiative, did he? Once again, Tony Stark shows s***ty judgement."

Foolishly, the super-thug throws the little blade. It bounces dully off dense flesh.

Shulkie sighs, "Listen, this is for harming Hellcat in New Orleans." The Avenger casually smacks the villain, and he is unconscious.

The amazon tosses her inferior opponent aside. She-Hulk scans the horizon to the north, and she discerns fleeing Man-Ape. Powerful legs prepare to leap after him and. . . . .

Tuttle Manor explodes as though it has a tornado going through it. Jen jogs east instead.

A moment earlier, Enforcer lies beneath Spider-Woman who has tackled him. Having him pinned, she squeezes his wrist until his hand unlocks his pesky pernicious pistol. Simmering mad, Jess slams his hand on the floor as punishment for recent problems. She snatches the silver semi-auto and attempts crumpling it like a can. Nero's precious pistol at least crimps into uselessness.

Enforcer screams in seeming frustration. But, more than ire burns across his visage. His eyes

glow like brimstone. And, the closet fire eerily increases tenfold while the air plummets below zero. The captive caterwauls, and a wild wind howls to him down the hallway. An unnatural, frigid southern squall strikes Spider-Woman and steals her breath in gossamer streams. She gasps and shivers. Peripherally, she spies the cast iron mask lift from the lint runes, impossibly unaffected by the wind.

Beneath Jess, Enforcer ejaculates, "Clothilde comes!"

The Wind Witch Clothilde captures Spider-Woman under the web-wings, and she carries her off in an instant. The unseen assailant flings Jessica through a pine door and the porcelain fixtures within. Busted pipes spray rusty water into Jess' face from broken sink and toilet. And, something wicked whips a swirly of crapper wash about Drew's head. Spider-Woman cringes and spits.

From the corridor, the floating ferrous mask boasts, "I shall make a huge ass of Arachne."

Twin venom-bites blaze forth. But, they only pass through where a body should be and instead blister the portraits posterior to Clothilde. Rogers and Rasputin's works smolder, and their smoke streams join the billows from the closet fire.

"Idiot, I am an existence's ether itself! I am the Wind!" the witch gloats from the gathering gloom.

"You forget, Clothilde dear," comments Spider-Woman, "that you are also of the Earth."

Jess fastballs a Carnelian knickknack from the bathroom. When hit correctly, cast iron cracks apart all over. But, the floating mask fleetly dodges the incoming threat. It twirls as though prancing on a pother. And, the floating mask continues spinning—gathering smoke and soot like wool. The wispy wool wraps a female form that magically manifests momentarily. Clothing herself, Clothilde presents the invincible intangible eidolon who Spider-Woman cannot hope to vanquish.

"I am unimpressed and undeterred," Spider-Woman states, "If I can't break your face, I can still snuff your magic candle."

Correctly, the detective presumes that the cloakroom candle conjures Wind Witch onto this plane. Spider-Woman punches through the bathroom mirror into the adjacent combusting closet. From the hole, flames lick at her, but leaking water stifles them. Making her hands a hammer, Spider-Woman prepares to smash through entirely.

But, Wind Witch beats Spider-Woman to the punch. The wicked woman whooshes right into the conflagration. Through the fissure, she jets flame like a dragon's breath. Jessica ducks. Then, Clothilde blasts burning debris through the hole. Drew cannot avoid that attack. Searing embers and ash envelop her. Wind Witch follows. She flows herself into the narrow privy and throws herself upon Drew. Clothilde's currents curl tight around Jessica, and they purl the girl in a whirl. For an insane instant, fire and wind coalesce into a pirouetting pillar that sucks the life from Spider-Woman's lungs. Then, Wind Witch abruptly shoots Spider-Woman through the ceiling, through the house's second floor, and through the slate roof twenty-five feet above. Jess tries adhering her gloves to the roof (she must escape this fight), but Wind Witch sucks the superheroine right back into the depths—a dangerous spiral of slate shards following.

Down below, Enforcer has safely sprinted past the chaos. He runs out the gaping exit that he made in the manor's entrance. He jogs onto the asphalt driveway in front of the residence. He assesses. Wind Witch gave Ghost Rider nightmares (see _Ghost Rider_ #66), so Spider-Woman is probably quite screwed. For which Mike Nero is glad. The bitch bent his precious pistol. Now, he only has one. Into it, Enforcer slams a different clip of cursed cartridges, not yet used today. Gun in hand, the hitman hustles for the west lawn. He should be able to ambush She-Hulk and Man-Ape.

To Enforcer's surprise, She-Hulk jogs around the house corner before him. She stops. She stares-down the startled assassin.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Shulkie speaks, "The Avengers Files list you as dead."

"Ain't that guy under your arm supposed to be dead?" Enforcer replies, "Per my files, Grim Reaper is likely gone with a bang." Nero notices an unconscious Reaper under an Amazonian arm.

The Lady Liberator leader lobs limp Dawson onto the blacktop, "Have a look. That bozo is Louis Dawson the Reaper, not apparently expired Eric Williams the Grim Reaper. Louie is not Eric any more than I suspect that you are Charles Delazny, Iron Man foe and Scourge's first victim."

"I'm Uncle Chuck's successor," the nephew Nero points his loaded weapon.

She-Hulk whistles contemptuously. She guffaws and puffs, "Don't bother. I'm bulletproof."

A piece east, Wind Witch gusts Spider-Woman across the Tuttle butler's bed in the servant's abandoned abode. Jess' body impacts the plaster, and hurricane winds flutter Spider-Woman's sliced and tattered costume. A terrible torrent bows and blows-out the window onto the red brick patio outside. It gathers the heavy furniture into a wave and sails the solid wave forward.

Spider-Woman has had enough. Enraged, the Avenger chops the incoming furniture atwain: destroying a dresser, cleaving a clock, mashing a full mattress, breaking a cheval glass, bisecting a brass lamp. Unstoppable, the superheroine leaps forward against the unrelenting force. Wind Witch would show shock if her ferrous features allowed. The arachnid Avenger attaches her hands to the floating iron mask firmly, and she ferociously releases a venom-bite that could fry the Human Fly, sauté Super-Skrull, and melt Morgan le Fay. Her current enemy squalls in distress before dissipating like Typhon before Zeus. The candescent metal mien drops through the inert air and clatters upon the earth. Gutsy Spider-Woman grabs the iron while it is hot and attempts snapping the mask in two. However, the cursed object will not fracture.

Again, the Avenger goes hastily for the conjuring candle. The heroine hurries headlong into the blaze protecting the treasure. Her fingers hook it—when Wind Witch grabs her again. Wind Witch whips her whirligig toy back down the hallway. Momentarily, the incensed sorceress slams Spider-Woman off of the solid titanium of Tuttle's locked walk-in vault. Straining, Spider-Woman manages to aim her arm to venom-blast Clothilde once more. But, the entity will not have it. She spins the Web-Lady woefully about the corridor's enclosed space. With a vengeance, cyclonic Fury resolves to shoot Arachne through the manor's entire ground floor. The bodily harm could be great.

Elsewhere, She-Hulk repeats, "Don't bother. I'm bulletproof."

Without a word, Enforcer trains his piece upon She-Hulk. For a second, Shulkie stares-down the raised weapon. Suddenly, something about this situation unsettles her somewhere in her psyche. Something scares her about Enforcer.

The shootist fires his eldritch ammo. Enforcer's magic bullet unbelievably affects. Impossibly, it penetrates the invincible anterior and makes a crimson plume out the posterior. Jen bleeds from her breast and back. She winces with pain and chokes on ichor. She spits scarlet. The stalwart superheroine stumbles toward her nefarious foe. Then, gasping, the Sensational She-Hulk falls at his feet, and he stands surprisingly triumphant over her.

Immediately nearby, Wind Witch also bests a noble heroine. Clothilde heaves Spider-Woman through a plaster wall and cloth curtain onto a wooden stage. Jess tumbles off the stage onto the ballroom floor. Around the expansive ballroom, displays stand in the room's dusty disuse and gloom. Swiftly, Spider-Woman scans for something to use against Wind Witch. She spies a glass woman in a glass case (this is Glazier, a defunct Hulk foe), a Phillip Masters marionette, a stuffed Symkarian sable, a fully-stocked bar, and a Team America motorcycle on which one might escape, maybe. But, Clothilde doesn't allow Drew to withdraw. Before Arachne even clears the cobwebs, the awful sorceress slings her ass through the swinging doors into the abutting dining room.

Spider-Woman slams hard into the solid slab of a table. Her pursuer passes softly beneath the gates before gusting another solid gale over the Avenger. Spider-Woman speedily slides across the slab and lands hard in the adjacent larder. Fervidly following, the fiend flings a few chairs and whatnot from the dining room into the pantry. The evil eidolon enters the narrow pantry.

Wicked Wind Witch circulates her phantasmal form like a tempest, and she dispatches Spider-Woman in one fell swoop. It takes thirteen seconds for the Teutonic tornado to tour Jess counterclockwise through the first floor. In second one, Clothilde barrages Drew with a sloppy smorgasbord of vexing vacuumed victuals. Second two. Cackling Clothilde careens captured quarry through the kitchen. Over secured Stymie, a blurred body extinguishes the gas burners, crashes through cabinets and their contents, clips the fridge and sink, and collapses the far wall. Face-first, Spider-Woman flies through the fixed screen in the TV room. Fey Wind Witch skips gaily after in her spectral gown. Seconds five through eight. Clothilde buffets her bauble with pillows and stuffed furnitur—before blasting her plaything into the parlor. In the parlor, inert Howard the Duck momentarily miraculously takes flight, and trapped Tara Tam flips unfortunately in her loveseat. That is second nine. Wind Witch sails Spider-Woman through the next wall and into the next room. Second ten. Whizzing Spider-Woman witnesses old WC Tuttle's madness. In a narrow room, there is a crude shrine. And, in a throne, mummified Bull Murdock—long dead—sits in a Terror costume between two eternal flames. To his right is a cask of amontillado. To his left is a girl's doll. Laid before him are thirty silver pieces on the ground. Spider-Woman tries gasping, but Wind Witch won't let her catch her breath. Seconds eleven and twelve. The evil elemental concludes the Avenger's ass-whupping. Spider-Woman barrels through brick into a disused, scummy goldfish pond, and her drubbed body sinks below the scuzzy surface.

Wind Witch watches her weathered foe go under. Suddenly, the sorceress senses something at sea. She flies swiftly toward Stingray and Hellcat on the Atlantic.

Beneath the bogey, Enforcer watches Wind Witch depart, and he hopes that she gave Spider-Woman a good defeat. At his feet, Nero directs his malevolent muzzle, and he fires three times into Reaper's torso. Body armor does not save the adversary, and bloody Louis Dawson lies quite dead. Bad guy Nero feels good for offing an ex-cop who also interfered in Enforcer's mission. Holstering his pistol, Enforcer walks back over to supine She-Hulk. Jen's eyes roll, and her limbs flop. And, She-Hulk is a lighter shade of green than usual.

The nimrod kneels beside her as though he has no fear of a beast in its death throes. Enforcer pronounces, "Let's get you home, Ms. Walters."

Mike Nero stands and outstretches his palms. The novice magician chants an incantation taught to him by a Transylvanian thaumaturge. Under ailing She-Hulk, an unearthly portal opens upon the solid ground. The limp Lady Liberator drops directly into a warmer place. Enforcer accompanies her down. Sans further ceremony, the unnatural aperture seals behind him. Enforcer has just kidnapped the Sensational She-Hulk!

Over yon, the Spectacular Spider-Woman escapes a peril. The indomitable Avenger rises from the scummy pond. Spitting muck and swallowing grit, Jessica speaks into a communicator, "Calling Hellcat and Stingray. Do you copy?"

Slime seeps down Jessica's skin and creeps under her torn costume. Effluent invades the cuts and abrasions from her recent skirmish. She vigorously shakes her long locks to clean them of dirt and debris and to clear her head. The unsinkable Spider-Woman determines to foil fiends Wind Witch, Enforcer, and Man-Ape wherever they may be. She has confidence that the Mighty Avengers can still win the day.

However, after a half-minute, Hellcat radios, "Jess! We need you immediately at sea! Tiger Shark has attacked the boat! He came out of nowhere! THEN, some animate cyclone also came out of nowhere like Whirlwind! But, this wind bitch isn't Whirlwind! She obliterated Stingray instantly! The ship is sinking! Bring Jen! Bring Howard! Bring Porcupine! Bring anybody! Now I'm. . . . ."

CRACKLE! The communication cuts. Drew curses to herself. The super-sleuth supposes that Mr. Z had Tiger Shark on stand-by hidden in the Atlantic since Mr. Z had (dangerous) Man-Ape sitting in his house. After all, WC Tuttle had retained Tiger Shark before hiring the Lethal Legion, and the heroes knew that. Perhaps, the seven superheroes should have seen the squalus supervillain coming.

To Detective Drew's surprise, Stymie Schmidt nearly ambushes her. The kitchen crook has gotten free of the restraints in which Howard and Tara left him, and he has apparently reencountered the Duck and Tam in the parlor. Stymie holds a raygun in one hand and brandishes a framed clipping in the other. Schmidt shoots an errant laseblast that singes the stucco near Jess. Sneering, Stymie Schmidt levels the lasergun at Jess' mug.

"May I help you?" Spider-Woman calmly inquires.

"Yeah! You can move the f*** out of the way, or you can die," Stymie shakes the gun.

"I do not know if a superheroine should do either of those things," Spider-Woman replies, "You might be a dangerous criminal."

"I'm Stymie Schmidt!" the schlub shakes the clipped article as though he were in it, "I killed Jack Murdock."

"Really?"

"Well, I helped," says Schmidt, "I was part of Fixer's gang."

"Nobert Ebersol, the Master of Evil?"

"Well no, Roscoe Sweeney, the racketeer," the goon's gunhand shakes, "B-b-but, I was also in Trump's gang."

"The magician miscreant that crimefighters always, abracadabra," Spider-Woman snaps her fingers, "make disappear?"

"Well, he taught me how to slip bonds like I did in the kitchen," the lout lowers his weapon. Surreptitiously, Spider-Woman forms a gun with her fingers at her side.

"Besides, Stymie Schmidt don't need no leader," Stymie Schmidt proposes, "I led my own gang in Hell's Kitchen when I was a kid. We used to mess-up Matt Murdock, Jack Murdock's kid."

"Considering that Matt Murdock has been blind since childhood, I am duly impressed," Drew drawls. She points a finger at the guilty one.

"Oh fudge!" the "famous", felonious fink fumbles the raygun when re-aiming. Sans hesitation, Spider-Woman simply venom-stings Stymie unconscious.

The heroine hurries to the flames consuming the cloak room, bathroom, butler's room, cook's room, and manor's front end. Oddly, the fire feels good on her dank costume in the cool November noon. She peers deeply into the dancing conflagration, and she spots the cursed candle uncannily unmelted in the unholy heat. Spider-Woman slings a glob of mud from the goldfish pond. With impeccable aim, she snuffs the candle. And, somewhere, Clothilde collapses into her own body with a stentorian shriek as her iron mask plummets into the Atlantic's depths. It passes three flaccid forms floating on the sea's churning surface: Hellcat, Stingray, and even shucked Tiger Shark.

Thick smoke surrounding her, Spider-Woman drops to one knee. She tries to gather her thoughts.

Twenty-seven hundred miles away, all-conquering Enforcer and hemorrhaging She-Hulk drop six feet from mid-air to ground. They land on the beach below Delazny Ranch. A ways above them and a wee inland, at that very moment, Black Talon sits triumphant too. A macabre mess covers Samuel Barone from the eviscerated equine hung overhead. Odious blood and entrails envelop the necromancer while Mike Nero's hypnotized help dance nude about the stable. The vile priest absorbs the animal's life energy. And, it restores his burnt skin and enervated constitution. Enraptured, Barone pounds the glaive in his left hand like a scepter. He keens wildly, and beastly blood engorges his gullet like drink. Miraculously, the recent invalid stands. He rips the bandages from his right stump. The cocksure Black Talon has returned, and he is nearly completely restored. Now, he need only find his right arm—in Ohio.

Far east of Ohio, Jessica Drew sits on an afternoon beach a half-hour after battling Enforcer, Wind Witch, and the infamous Stymie Schmidt. She has her cowl back, and the Cape Cod breeze cools her sore features. Spider-Woman addresses Porcupine to her right, "So, Roger, what did first responders have to say?"

"When I exited the west woods, the cops threatened to arrest me like they had some blowhard punk in a cook's apron. They automatically associate the Porcupine outfit with able villainy," Gocking removes his helmet, "But, assured that I'm harmless, they shared that the Barnstable County coroner removes presently the Tuttles' bodies and some stiff in a Grim Reaper costume. The Truro fire department has tamed the Tuttle manor fire, and they're currently dislodging trapped Tara Tam from a parlor loveseat."

"Poor Tara. She must be embarrassed," Howard the Duck pipes to Jessica's left. He sits sullenly in the soggy sand.

"I'm embarrassed too," Gocking laments, "I let you guys down when I let the bogus Grim Reaper take me down."

"Don't be down," states Spider-Woman, "You are not the most humiliated hero this day." She seemingly refers to herself in shredded costume and scraped skin.

However, the Web-Lady points down the beach to an unconscious trio washed ashore in their undies. Walter "Stingray", Patsy Walker, and "Tiger Shark" Todd lie lethargically under the sun and just above the surf that could suck them back out to sea. Perhaps, Tiger Shark (or any of them) might not mind getting away.

Spider-Woman rises stiffly and sorely. "I suppose," she sighs, "We heroes should help."

Porcupine follows his boss's good lead and goes to get the two conked Avengers. Roger comments, "You would think seven heroes could have handled this situation."

"You would think one She-Hulk would have done," Jess replies.


	11. Chap 11: Before Beginning

**Chapter 11: Before Beginning**

Jen Walters remembers this creep as she struggles in her restraints while he slinks upstairs to get a camera. Or rather, she remembers his uncle the late Charles Delazny Jr. Beside She-Hulk, Uncle Chuck and his nephew Mike appear in a photo nicely hung in this mad scientist lab. Based on attire, the two chums posed sometime around when the Savage She-Hulk first appeared. At that time, Junior was already the cutthroat called the Enforcer. Uncle smiles and squeezes smiling nephew in a headlock.

Beside the Delazny pic, another scene sits. From a nice frame, a teenaged Jen and her cousin Bruce hang-out on Santa Monica Beach about a decade before the Delazny moment. Jen remembers that day because it was fun. She remembers that day because Charles Jr. is the one who took the pic. She remembers because Charles was kind of a creep, and her father Officer Morris Walters had to intercede.

Hero She-Hulk is always sad when someone dies, even a supervillain. But, a part of her was not that sad when she heard that the first Enforcer had been fatally shot by Scourge (see _Iron Man_ #194). A little justice had been served.

She-Hulk sighs. She studies the shiny titanium straps fastening her tight to a cold steel exam table beneath a bright, burning surgical light, like a damsel in distress. She scans the torn bodice where the hexed bullet ripped her top. She feels the cellar's chill over her skin and in her bones. The superheroine knows that she is in an unusual position that she must soon change. Soon, She-Hulk will sit-up with all of her might and will simply snap the unbreakable bonds upon her.

She-Hulk relaxes and concentrates in the metallic bands restraining her. Before her gaze, her right chest achingly expands and falls rhythmically. Breathing has become easier over the last half-hour, and her Hulkish healing factor has corrected her collapsed lung. The healing factor has even regenerated some gamma-irradiated blood to reenergize her (recently foggy) mind and (recently hurt) body. Muscle and skin have miraculously mended on her front, and blown-out tissue has mended on her back. Jen sees and feels such.

Soon, She-Hulk will give Enforcer II a beating that he will not soon forget. Not that Mike Nero forgets things easily. Shulkie feels the chill over her bare feet beneath her bootless legs. While removing Jen's boots, Nero explained that he wanted to recreate a scene from his uncle's younger days. Then, Mike pointed to the beach picture. He wanted Jen to be wearing essentially only a lovely purple-and-white one-piece, such as she had that day. The nefarious nephew gloated and boasted that he would today complete his uncle's work. He would take his uncle's revenge upon Jen Walters. And, Nero would beautifully film the ugly scene with retired Delazny Studios equipment.

The Enforcer declared that he plans to torture She-Hulk while taping her cries and to execute her with cursed bullets while shooting her macabre demise. Once distributed underground, the film will establish the new Enforcer's evil reputation with fellow mean men. And, it would make Mike feel great.

The good woman feels a great anger arising as she lies bound. And, the angrier She-Hulk gets, the stronger she. . . . . Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, the heroine recollects that day long, long ago when the Pacific broke upon the California coast. . . . .

Elsewhere, far to the east, Jessica Drew examines the ground as the Atlantic Ocean pounds the Massachusetts shore. "Someone has the same boot-size as Jen," Drew assesses imprints in the sand.

"Except the person wears a wide," deduces Howard the Duck beside Spider-Woman.

Over Jess' shoulder, Dr. Walter Newell supposes, "The person could be a Man-Ape instead of a She-Hulk."

"Why do you say that?" inquires investigator Drew.

"Men and monsters tend to have wider feet than women," notes the bioengineer in his skivvies, "Plus, M'Baku is standing right over there."

Up the beach, M'Baku towers above Hellcat and even Tiger Shark. With arms crossed, he stares down perky Patsy Walker finding one of her nine lives. Hair bedraggled and silk undies soaked, half-drowned Patsy takes a fighting position. With a surly serrated sneer, Todd Arliss circles the stock-still Wakandan warrior and the wild cat.

M'Baku speaks, "Be calm, you two. I saved you from the sea."

"So, you are a not so lethal Legionnaire today," Patsy notes, "So what? I am still an active Avenger."

"Tiger Shark doesn't need saving from the sea," Tiger Shark tells Man-Ape, "But, you might need saving from Tiger Shark and the sea if I drag you back into the water."

"And, you might need saving if that air elemental returns," retorts M'Baku, referencing Wind Witch.

Tiger Shark shoves Hellcat aside, spilling her on the sloppy, soggy sand. Arliss confronts M'Baku. Spider-Woman, Howard the Duck, and unsuited Stingray converge upon the two scrappers. Porcupine—silent and still until this point—helps Patsy up like a gentleman.

Tiger Shark growls, "Are you threatening me, M'Baku? A Master of Evil can mash and lash a Lethal Legionnaire into chimp chowder."

The White Gorilla rolls his eyes. He calmly inquires, "Mr. Arliss, you were hired to protect the Tuttles from superheroic invaders and me, correct?"

"Right," the monstrous ruffian replies, "WC Tuttle was not the noted pulp author, but I decided to take the security job anyway. He had me on retainer."

M'Baku replies, "Well, WC is dead. His little granddaughter Minnie is as well. The Tuttles are toast, and their estate is soon stuck in probate."

The terrible Tiger Shark relaxes. He considers a second. Todd Arliss shrugs, "Wilbur prepaid me anyway. I'll just leave now."

Walter Newell, Tiger Shark's brother-in-law and nemesis, steps back, breaking the circle of heroes. "See you at the family reunion," Newell quips.

Stingray, Spider-Woman, Howard the Duck, Porcupine, and Hellcat have all had their asses kicked today; therefore, they suppose that they can catch and release a super-criminal. In a blink, the bad guy bounds from the beach into the breaking surf. And, Tiger Shark is gone.

In a blink, Spider-Woman snatches Man-Ape's arm. Jessica jerks M'Baku's face down to her own. Locking eyes, the Web-Lady asks, "Why are you still around these parts, M'Baku? An evil-doer could have fled to the hills of New Hampshire by now."

"I could have run to the cul-de-sacs of Connecticut," M'Baku assures, "However, I would like to team-up with you five against the Enforcer. He seems to be a crafty and capable mutual enemy who has left us all hurting."

Jessica chuckles, "An Avenger is never so ailing that she would ally herself with you."

Patsy adds, "You tried to slay Spider-Woman once."

"I have no memory of that," Jess and M'Baku pronounce in puzzled unison.

"Well, I could have read it in a gas station tabloid," Patsy admits. She remembers perusing a _7-11 Spider-Man and Spider-Woman_ promotional comic once.

Pushing Patsy aside, Roger "Porcupine" Gocking enters the discussion, "I am not personally opposed to a villain team-up."

"Oh, why's that?" Howard the Duck asks snidely.

"Well, I am traditionally a villain myself," Porcupine points-out.

"Yeah, there's that," Howard cynically assents with a smirk (unlike an earthly avian).

"And," Gocking continues, "I have often done good work while undercover with the underground. Sometimes, you associate with devils to be on the side of the angels."

"I worship Ghekre of Vodun," M'Baku clarifies.

Gocking continues, "You four know full well that you must sometimes associate with outlaws and fringe figures. Spider-Woman has the Night Shift, Moon Knight, and me. Howard has Man-Thing and Frankenstein's Monster. Hellcat has Daimon Hellstrom, the Hulk, Moondragon, vampire Jubilee, and the Sub-Mariner. Stingray has Dr. Druid, Marrina, and the Sub-Mariner."

"Actually, my three are heroes," clarifies Newell.

M'Baku clears his throat. He contributes, "You four should collaborate with me, for Enforcer has kidnapped She-Hulk. Undoubtedly, her time is on the clock."

Porcupine pats his boss' back. He tells Jessica, "In the recent Black Panther picture, M'Baku teams with T'Challa to save the day from Eric Killmonger. Maybe, we should let fiction become reality against the Enforcer."

"That movie never happened," Jessica Drew shakes her head strongly at this surreal scene. The Atlantic keeps rumbling ashore.

Elsewhere, Jennifer Walters concentrates on the West Coast, and she pictures the past. Some time ago, the Pacific arrives from the broad, sunny horizon on a summer's day on Santa Monica Beach. Jen Walters stands smiling broadly at the water's edge, and she flings a Frisbee to her cousin Bruce a bit in-land. He catches the teenager's throw. Suddenly, a surprise wave drenches the dear damsel and tosses her lithe form forcefully forward. The swift surge sprawls her prone on the pulpy sand. Then, the salty spritz subsides.

Immediately, Cousin Bruce rushes to her rescue. He has a certain hero within him. But, a hero is not needed on this occasion. Jen is still smiling when she springs to her feet, muddy sand caked to her fair face and clumped in her brunette hair. The seventeen-year-old roars with laughter. She swipes the sludge from her skin before going to bathe in the ocean.

Bruce Banner wades to the knee after her, but he does not join Jen's merriment. He does not want to wet the Bermuda shorts or the button-down shirt that he wore to the beach. He does not want wet to splash his pristine spectacles.

Behind Bruce, a Charles Delazny, Jr. strolls past a piece away. The young man ogles the teenybopper playing in the shimmering sea. The film-maker's kid wishes that he had a camera. But, all is groovy. He takes a picture with his mind. Champing at the bit a bit, Charles stalks south toward Pacific Ocean Park, but he is not going there yet. Maybe later with the girl. Rather, Chuck has staked a spot on the beach, and he wants to fetch a camera and a towel. He has also a wad of cash and a shiny semi-automatic pistol, one of his prize possessions, concealed there. Perhaps later, Chuck and the pretty chick can share some fine wine, which he also brought, while lying on his plush beach towel. It is good to be Junior. Senior owns a film studio.

Gleefully, Jen plays in the Pacific. She dances in her purple and white one-piece under the golden sun shining on the azure water above the resplendent beige sand. In the comely lass, nature seems to have created itself a Nereid. Freely, she flips herself ably backward into the water. Her brunette hair blooms in the undersea blue, and she blows bubbles blithely toward the surface. The young woman wonders what it is like to be an Atlantean and if, someway, she might ever meet one. The ingénue wonders what it is like to see a giant sea monster such as astonishing tales sometimes report. The naïve maid marvels at such wonders in this time just before maturity, when she is yet green.

Gazing around, her cute peepers discern her stuffy cousin's stiff legs standing in the water near the shore. Jocular Jen resolves "I shall be a porpoise with a purpose", and she scissorkicks swiftly through the shallows. Surfacing, Jen splashes sea upon Bruce's dry shirt and dry mien. Gasping and then grinning, he sends some back at her. Bruce almost never smiles, and Jen is glad to see such expression. The young lady grins back—while feeling a mix of emotions. She feels joy to spend this happy moment with her cousin. She feels melancholy that her abused, orphaned kin has had so many harder moments before this one. She feels both gladness and guilt that she still has her own parents. And, Jen feels cautious optimism about Bruce's recent new opportunities in New Mexico. She hopes and prays for him. He deserves a glowing, bright future.

The sun lights Bruce's lenses, and he looks momentarily like an angel. He murmurs "Thank you for the invite, Jen". The great scientist is ever unassuming, shy, and soft-spoken. The seabreeze nearly swallows his words.

"Thank your Uncle Morris and Aunt Elaine," Jen expresses aloud, "They own the house at which you're staying, and they are the ones who bought you the ticket from New Mexico."

"They did not have to," Bruce asserts, "The U.S. military compensates their civilian employee well."

"What do you do for the air force?" the future attorney questions.

"That is—believe it or not—classified," comments Dr. Banner, "Mainly, I just tolerate this jackass named Gen. Ross. Thick-headed Thaddeus reminds me some of my late father. He too has a big, abusive mouth. Indeed, they have nicknamed Ross 'Thunderbolt' for a reason."

Jen giggles, and her laugh cracks up Bruce's stony, stolid features. Her somber cousin is actually smirking, and Jen feels good. However, her heart within feels a wee heavy too, for the young woman realizes that the world will always have men like Brian Banner. His sister Elaine is Jen's mother. Mom has often warned that violent, abusive men—such as Jen's grandfather—create damaged, violent, abusive men such as Brian. When they do, the rage rolls and rumbles forth through time and generations like a goliath. The young woman has already witnessed such.

Little Jenny was but a toddler when Brian murdered his wife, but her sobbing mom is one of Jen's earliest memories. Elaine rarely speaks of Rebecca Banner. But, when she does, she always speaks well of her slain sister-in-law, whose son Bruce began visiting when little Jenny was in elementary school. The middle-schooler was morbid and mad. When the children played, he would describe, in quite clinical detail, how his father used to berate and beat his mom and him. He would narrate how his father killed his mom right in front of him. Sometimes, the sweet miss would wind-up sobbing. Into her distraught face, Bruce would stare back coldly, but there was a certain rage behind his eyes. As though, if the girl wanted to cry, he would give her something to cry about.

It is a rage that the world had better hope never ignites. Although, who knows what aggression that military work might ignite out in New Mexico? The armed forces can famously find a man's inner "green machine".

A couple years back, Brian Banner died. Someone fractured his skull in the Ohio cemetery holding Aunt Becky. Dayton police have never caught the assailant, an apparent mugger. Anyway, the violent man met a violent end.

Over the years, Jen's dad would sometimes mention his brother-in-law, stowed away in a mental institution for the criminally insane. Morris Walters, a lawman, has said that he wishes that Jen's mother and he had done more. Dep. Walters deals with the Brian Banners of the world all of the time. But, this time, a lovely lady died trying to escape her troubled husband, and her troubled husband wound-up institutionalized. And, their dear child will carry scars around with him for life. Lawman Morris wishes that he had done more. But, fifteen years back, you just didn't tell a man how to argue with his wife or discipline his kid.

In the present era, Jennifer Walters wonders what she can do for the Bruces and Beckys of this world. In this era, "girls" do not become lawmen. (In everyone's mind), they simply lack the strength. So, Jen wonders whether she could become a lawyer or something similar. Of course, in this era, "girls" also do not become attorneys, or even attend college much. However, an aspiring champion can dream. Perhaps, the visionary can be some do-gooder's girl Friday. Tomboy Jen has read old comics with her pals Zapper and Ralphie. She has read of the Blonde Phantom. Perhaps, one day, Jen could be another timely heroine showing that "girls" can.

"Hey, young lady," Bruce interrupts Jen's thoughts, "May I buy a sweet kid and her folks ice creams? I don't mind sharing a greenback."

"Well, Dad Walters is around here somewhere, but my mom has driven off elsewhere," the teenager explains. Someday soon, Elaine Walters dies in a traffic accident, but her daughter doesn't know.

"Aunt Elaine will be our missing party then," Bruce concludes, "Let us find your fine father for some frozen fare." The happy family duo flits fancifully from the flowing seafoam and frilly froth for their blanket and belongings, including Bruce's billfold. But, before arrival, a bare-chested beau blocks their path.

Charles Delazny checks the Banners' progress. Extending an arm, he offers Jen a towel. Then, he offers to buy a girl some sweet stuff.

"Hey, little girl, may I buy some tutti-frutti for a cutie?" the sweaty swain smiles while separating the apparent ingénue from her bespectacled, bookish chaperone.

Bruce pushes the young buck back, "Actually, we were about to get some ice cream for ourselves."

"I know. I eavesdropped," the future hood states. Slick suitor slides from protector's palm.

The decent damsel comes to her cousin's cause, "I appreciate the chivalry with the towel, but you should chamois yourself first. You're perspiring pretty well." Le Pew is running a bit hot.

"You're all wet," the male cousin quips.

"Well, I can still buy your vanilla friend a vanilla and a tutti-fruiti for a beauty," Charles chimes charmingly. He winks and points at Jen.

Jen simpers although she shouldn't. This fellow insults her kin and is awfully forward with her. Yet, he is witty like Eros and dreamy like Hercules from the storybooks. Jen Walters was raised right, but she has some of the "wrong" impulses that we all have. And, Charles is paying Jen (sometimes considered shy and mousy) some attention. And, (especially in this past era), it wouldn't be nice for Miss Walters to tell him to go away. A young lady is well-mannered, cheerful, and cordial, and she often just follows the man's lead. A nice girl does not offend a guy. Don't make him angry.

Gentle Jen politely proposes, "Well, I suppose that you can join us. And, whoever pays for the treats pays for the treats."

Charles ogles his planned treat, licking his lips. Leaning in, he takes her hand to shake it. Perhaps, he can even keep her hand and lead her away. But, the sweet thing removes her soft, smooth appendage promptly from his hard grip. And, Bruce takes Charles' hand to shake instead.

However, the future Hulk hardly has a crushing clutch these days, so Charles is hardly intimidated when the assertive square informs "Jen's father will be joining us. He is a police officer."

Unimpressed and unafraid, the future Enforcer asserts his will. Wiley Charles steers his two chattels. Moving east, the creep suggests, "Let's visit your camp on the sand. Then, let's visit Pacific Ocean Park over there."

"The locals call it p.o.p. Are you not local?" Walters investigates.

"I am Charles Delazny Jr. from San Jose," Chuck pronounces, "My father runs a film studio in L.A. Maybe, we can pop over there after we pop over to the p.o.p." The churl would love to get the girl into his Stark muscle car for a whirl.

"Yeah maybe," she says. Jen suddenly sprints across the sand.

Charles watches her swaying hips and swinging soles. She slides down beside a blanket, a basket, and a cooler in the sand. Charles beholds her lustrous locks and radiant back in the bright sun. While kneeling, she scribbles a note to someone. Junior studies the stooped sweetheart. Bruce watches the watcher gazing.

The libertine lug lopes to his lovely. At her shoulder, he leers upon her fresh-faced looks. A shaky hand swipes a sweaty sward of his scalp. A single drop of perspiration drips from Charles' chin like lupine drool. It softly impacts Jen's naked shank. The lass looks behind her.

Charles jokes, "So, are you on your way to Grandma's house?" He points to the basket of Banner belongings beside the girl who he would gobble.

Jen feels a bit uncomfortable, and she wishes that her cousin would come to aid. Instantly, Bruce arrives. "Our grandmother is deceased," informs impassive Bruce adjusting his glasses—the better to see Charles with.

Delazny snarks some more, "Well then, your grandma will probably miss Pacific Ocean Park."

"I am leaving her son, my dad, a note," Jen mentions, "We are going to the amusement park. He is unlikely to have purchased a ticket into there when he can wander around Santa Monica Beach for free."

Foxy Delazny anticipated such. Thus, he suggested the P.O.P. in the first place. Not every dad has money such as Charles Sr. has. Junior enjoys his savvy. Sans a sheepdog, a wolf can more easily be a predator. He nearly salivates.

"Uncle Morris does not need to accompany us," Bruce states, "I'm here."

The slight square stares down the hound dog harassing his cousin. The inveigler giggles in Banner's stern face. He guffaws a film onto his glasses. Grinning, Charles chews his lip and shakes his head. The future hitman is tempted to slug Jen's gangly bodyguard, the future Green Goliath. However, Junior is more tempted by the green gal inexperienced in a lady-killer's ways, and she might not care for her cousin getting clocked. So, the rake recedes from Bruce. He saunters south. He beckons those behind him "Okay, let's have some fun!"

Stiff Bruce stands observing Charles go. But, Jen cheerfully trots after the strapping, chafing chap. The seventeen-year-old only knows Patsy Walker comics, and Charles reminds her a bit of Buzz Baxter (unbeknownst to her, the future Mad-Dog). The young lady knows only that dad Dep. Walters is careful about whom she sees, and she would adventurously know a bad boy. Sighing, Bruce follows Jen. He hopes that Charles is actually cool.

Pacific Ocean Park is fun. Everyone has fun there. Charles plays it cool for about two hours playing with the Banners, who begin to relax a bit around him. The trio savors their sundaes. A darling delights in seeing trained dolphins at the Sea Circus exhibit, and a gal has got to love riding the Looff Carousel with her cousin and handsome companion. A curious kid appreciates the close quarters on the Ferris wheel or the Mr. Octopus ride where Charlie takes her hand. A girl, her cousin, and their chum meander amused through the Mirror Maze, grotesque images of each attending them. Throughout the sojourn, a physicist finds the roller coaster and other rides interesting. And, a sociopath enjoys being a wolf in sheep's clothing, while imagining getting under Jen's.

Behind his eyes, Delazny envisions his endgame. Under the afternoon sun, Charles leads the Banners toward the amusement park's exit. Teenagers and the traumatized yearn for friends, so Jen and Bruce trust Junior—despite their better judgments—a little more by the minute. At the moment, Chuck seems like a decent fellow who is just a little aggressive with the chicks sometimes. But, what man isn't (in this era)? Even awkward Bruce knows that the man makes the first move, naturally.

Casually, Charles catches the Banners by the clothing. Gently dragging them, the insensible hunk places them in position outside of the park. He produces a camera and proposes a picture. For Charles, when he captures Jen's image, he sort of captures her. Plus, he might get an address to send the picture. Then, he has her address too.

Jen and Bruce generate bright smiles on such an enjoyable day.

After posing, Jen jokes that she is a young thing and cannot leave her mother—or father—for too long. She need find her folks. Charles offers to escort her. He immediately drapes his arm over her and walks her. Bruce notices the action but considers stuff maybe okay. Under Charles' arm, Jen smiles sheepishly. Charles' flesh is a wee heavy upon her. But, the damsel does not quite know how things work, and she is as curious as Pandora about the musky, muscular man with movie-star looks and money who moves her forward. As they walk, Charles' hand moves forward on her. It rubs her right shoulder and suit strap. Bruce notices. It brushes back-and-forth on a bicep that could one day bisect the "playful", petting brute. It moves . . . five inches to the left. Jen gasps. Bystanders frown before becoming passers-by. Bruce grinds his teeth. He takes the reprobate's wrist and tugs.

Bruce tersely dictates, "Watch it!"

Charles pulls his palm from Jen's person and yanks his arm from Bruce's best grip. "Watch it or what?" six-foot and built asks 5' 9" and Banner.

In the future, when Bruce grows angry or outraged, a startling metamorphosis occurs. However, this day, puny Dr. Banner has only an impotent rage and a silent scowl. In the future, when Jen wishes, the Savage She-Hulk smashes all adversaries, from clowns to cosmic threats. However, this day, mousy meek Miss Walters only squeaks and squirms while shifting nervously in canvas sneakers. A kid doesn't know what to do. A sheriff's deputy can teach his daughter all of the self-defense in the world, but she still must find her inner champion when the time comes. This moment is maybe not that time.

Charles squints at the babe he just squeezed. He smirks. Chuck sideglances at the wimp with her. Delazny snorts contemptuously. The nascent psychopath and assassin decides that he needs to teach them a lesson. He needs to enforce his desires. At his side, his fingers form an ersatz gun.

"Did you tell me to 'watch it'?" Charles chortles.

"Yeah!" Bruce shifts shade. He turns red with anger.

Charles chocks loogie on Bruce's loafers, "Watch this."

Junior jerks Jen to him. He corrals her neck and kisses her forcefully. His other big arm curls across her lower back. Excited, the sweating satyr anticipates her muffled protest, for he has done this before.

But, Junior does not get any cries from Jennifer Walters. Instead, the slight "girl" kicks his shin forcefully. The cad cringes slightly and releases a bit. She chops Charles' clavicle and headbutts his teeth (which actually hurts her brow). The wolf rakes her bare back and snarls. She punches his puss like a boxer, just as Dad taught.

But, her blow is just a bop to the incensed brute. Challenged, Charles tears the sarong from the "skirt" and tosses her to the hard sidewalk. He decks Bruce charging in. Incredibly, the "milksop" stays upright. He even retaliates with a right like a bomb and a left to astonish. Staggering, the creep slips something from his person. It cracks Bruce across the face. Cold steel gashes a gallant geek's cheek.

Stepping back, the bad actor brandishes a silver semi-auto, scintillating sinisterly in the sun. Charles chides, "I have been nothing but nice to you two! I have spent money all afternoon, yet you get all upset when I ask Jen for a kiss. I am Charles Delazny Jr. You two are permanent nobodies!"

"They aren't nobodies!" announces somebody approaching, "They are my daughter and nephew!" He

Charles wheels around and whips his weapon into firing position. He cocks it. The composed cop continues toward the tough guy. "I am Dep. Morris Walters," he states, "And, you will surrender that firearm immediately before surrendering yourself."

The arrogant aspiring Enforcer states, "This pistol is a gift from my dad."

"So, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth," Morris is unimpressed, "You're about to have a silver sidearm up your. . . . ."

"Shut up!" Charles commands the man standing point blank before him.

"No," Dep. Walters will not shut up, "You will give me that handgun. Then, you will wait quietly until my on-duty associates arrive. Understand?"

Charles shakes the cold, lethal steel, "Or what? You'll shoot me?"

"No," Morris informs, "Unlike you, I was not stupid enough to bring a concealed weapon to Santa Monica Beach."

Before the boy can react, the man simply seizes the gun's muzzle and pushes the hazard toward the sidewalk. Like the Hulk's uncle, Walters unleashes a haymaker across Delazny's jaw, and the thug drops down that day many years ago.

In the present, Jen Walters brings herself back up from reverie. She-Hulk opens her eyes and listens to her ears. Mike Nero descends the stairs to the basement. Expensive, heavy equipment bumps and bangs down with him. The maniac brings the camera, cables, lighting, and boom mics to film his fiendish operations.

Leaning over Jen, Mike checks a light meter. Satisfied that he has the best shot for when he savagely tortures She-Hulk, maniac Mike turns and flits to the top of the stairs. He brings back with him a Gladstone bag from which he apparently plans to play doctor. From the satchel, Nero produces blades, needles, scissors, and such truck. Like any good deviant, the dastard makes sure to display them within sight of She-Hulk.

But, She-Hulk doesn't scare easily—at all. The Jade Giantess stares down the little man with the big plans.

Enforcer speaks, "Asgardian implements are hard to find. However, you would be surprised what on-line trolls—actual trolls—are willing to sell. Geirrodur loves getting gold in Granite, Oklahoma."

"Great," says the great, green-skinned captive coolly.

"Shhh," Enforcer places his finger to a mouth that could remove his finger, "Jen, you insulted my august uncle once. I am going to strip you and slaughter you alive, all on glorious 35mm. Then, when you are barely breathing, I am going to put a magic bullet through your g***** head. Underground audiences are going to know the new Enforcer for the mighty mo** that he is, for the whole world will see him execute one of the mightiest of the Mighty Avengers."

Mike Nero smiles and snatches the scissors. Jen Walters contemptuously smiles back.

"Do you know what I don't get about you Delaznys?" the damsel in distress probes.

"No, what's that?" sneering Nero snips the air ominously before her eyeballs.

Avenger elucidates, "You Enforcers are always punching way above your weight-class: Iron Man, Ghost Rider, the Werewolf by Night, my friend Spider-Woman, and now a Hulk. You must be the stupidest family on the face of the Earth."

Enforcer whacks the wench's patella hard with a wrench—to no effect. Nero wonders. . . . .

Enforcer answers, "My uncle Chuck was luckless against certain chumps. However, I have already humiliated the Wrecking Crew and the Hood, outfoxed Spider-Woman, and kidnapped She-Hulk. Furthermore, I intend to kill you, Jessica Drew, Jack Russell, and Johnny Blaze—all on camera for a sizzle reel selling my magnificent services. And, after that, I intend to obliterate Black Talon simply for being a piss-poor houseguest."

"You're going to kill my old foe Black Talon?" Walters inquires.

"Yeah, he slaughtered my favorite horse and made a bloody mess in the stable," the evil auteur assesses his video feeds. She-Hulk looks good enough to snuff. He peruses the blades, needles, and other torture stuff sitting beside his silver semi-auto with the Hulk-piercing ammo. Beside She-Hulk's face, he puts down the scissors for slicing away her suit. Enforcer pulls-up his blue cowl and reaches for his silver mask. They should look cool in the film.

Supine She-Hulk considers a second. Taking a breath, she feels well. Assessing the situation and her enemy, she knows that now is the time.

To Enforcer's surprise, She-Hulk sits-up—easily snapping titanium-steel straps. Nero drops his mask and grabs his gun. The Jade Giantess stands, towering against the cellar ceiling. She grabs his right arm in a tight grip. Nero's circulation cuts instantly, and his shooting hand goes numb. Unmercifully, She-Hulk yanks his arm straight—spraining the elbow and the shoulder. Jen Walters will not be shot again.

"Drop the gun, shorty!" Savage Shulkie screams at the puny man.

Defiantly, Enforcer discharges a round—wanting it to ricochet off the wall and miraculously hit She-Hulk. But, the bullet just embeds in the wall. Irked, the Avenger spins Enforcer around the close quarters. He crashes through cameras and accoutrement, which electrifies him badly as it explodes. Stunned, the scumbag scoundrel goes slack. His pistol clatters on the floor. And, She-Hulk slams him like a sad sack of potatoes upon the exam table.

Instantly, She-Hulk slugs Enforcer in the face. Blood escapes his schnoz, and he spits teeth. The hit hitman beholds the angry Avenger above him. Apparently, he has found her savage side. As he did to her, She-Hulk rips Enforcer's tunic. Except, she rips his body armor easily entirely off. The barechested brigand brandishes a knife secreted on his person. Impotently, Uncle Charles' nephew pokes Jen Walters' impervious exterior. The ordinary blade bounces and dulls with each thrust.

She-Hulk slings Enforcer at the basement steps. His head splinters the railing, and he simply flops at the foot of the stairs. She-Hulk steps over him. She stoops to seize his scalp. The she-brute drags the unconscious oaf away.

Upstairs, She-Hulk tosses some human trash onto a living room couch. She addresses the supervillain's servants standing around. The Avenger tells them how to summon SHIELD from Los Angeles. Their boss is a dangerous man, and she "subtly" suggests that they no longer support his activities.

In turn, the staff informs She-Hulk of Black Talon's activities. Samuel Barone and staff member Roberto stole a classic Stark muscle car, one of Mr. Nero's prize possessions. They race eastward to somewhere. She-Hulk speculates that Black Talon might be heading back to New Orleans. But, then again, most anywhere American is east of San Jose. So, who knows?

"I know where Samuel Barone is going," states Mandrill on the Massachusetts shore, three hours ahead of She-Hulk. Before Mandrill, Boomerang and Speed Demon listen. Behind them, Buzzards Bay lolls past in the evening lunar illumination.

"We are glad that we contacted you then," Boomerang slings his spent cigarette into the sea.

"I am glad to hear that my rival Grim Reaper is blown to Hell," Mandrill points west toward distant Block Island Sound.

"That is the scuttlebutt anyway," Speed Demon says.

"We would like Black Talon to join his Lethal Legion colleague," Boomerang speaks, "Good ol' Chicken Man gave me a gift that I didn't like. The Amulet of Damballah kind of stung me." Rogue Myers references his poisoning in New Orleans.

"So, the Sinister Syndicate wants Samuel Barone dead, so we contacted you who monitor the Lethal Legion so closely," Speed Demon completes his comrade's thoughts.

Boomerang adds, "We couldn't contact the new Grim Reaper who seemingly also despises Black Talon. Someone offed him northeast of here this noon."

"I know," Mandrill chortles like a simian, "I am a criminal mastermind. It is my business to know what occurs and what is about to."

Speed Demon shakes his head. Some supervillains sure think themselves quick upstairs. James Sanders queries, "Okay, what is about to happen?"

"We are about to head to Ohio," Mandrill remarks. Jerome Beechman hoofs west from Horseneck Beach in Westport, Massachusetts. The two assassins follow.


	12. Chap 12: A Dark and Stormy

**Chapter 12: A Dark and Stormy**

Ohio has cold November rain just like anyplace else. Samuel Barone walks through it into the Stark County Library in Canton. In the quiet library, the rain falls in rippling sheets down the glass of expansive windows that normally let in copious, glorious light. But, today is a dark day outside, and Black Talon seeks someone in a dark corner of the quarters. In the archives, Barone finds the bashful bibliophile who he seeks. Behind closed doors, in a room's far corner, Baron Karl Mordo examines a Transylvanian text from nigh two centuries back. The Lethal Legionnaire approaches.

"Shall I wish you happy Black Friday, Samuel?" Baron Mordo looks up from his book. The sorcerer sensed his visitor a mile away.

Black Talon replies, "Black Friday is next week, and not even many supervillains brave that madness."

Mordo studies Samuel, "You are missing an arm. I see."

"Grim Reaper removed it. I would like it back," Samuel states.

The mage strokes his goatee, "It was not Grim Reaper."

"Oh?" Black Talon is very surprised, "That is news to me and heroine Hellcat. We engaged a Grim Reaper in New Orleans. . . . ."

"After Man-Ape apparently offed Eric Williams in the waters off Rhode Island," cagey Karl completes Samuel's thought.

"I would like to know what actually happened to Eric, and I would like to have my right arm when I do it," Black Talon takes a seat across from Baron Mordo.

Neither public enemy wears the usual garish garments that mark him as a malevolent marvel capable of combatting Earth-616's champions. Karl and Samuel are simply two patrons in the Canton public library. From past acquaintance, Barone knows that Mordo likes perusing the Romanian books and newspapers available in this community rich with Romanian-Americans. Granted, the New York Public Library has an even bigger collection from Karl's native land. But, Manhattan can be a hotbed of superheroes, so an evil sorcerer sometimes goes to Ohio for some downtime. Not that nemesis Dr. Strange can't detect Baron Mordo here. Perhaps, Strange simply allows an adversary some sanctuary and quiet time.

The heavy precipitation continues falling on the library building. It is the only soft sound beside the buzzing overhead lights and the hissing heat. Karl closes his book. He considers his colleague earnestly. Both pull at their goatees a bit. Baron Mordo prepares to speak. . . . .

Several blocks away, Roberto Carlos sits in a parked car on 6th Street. Enforcer's employee has driven two-thousand-and-a-half miles over one-and-a-half days, and he would like to stretch his legs. The chilly rainfall might even feel good as it awakens the exhausted man. Barone's chauffeur reaches for the door handle.

Abruptly, a boomerang breaks the driver's side glass and knocks Roberto unconscious. From the gloomy sky, Boomerang descends proudly on his jet boots. Arms akimbo, he alights on the asphalt beside the auto. In an instant, Speed Demon appears at Boomerang's side.

"You had better hope that there are no cops or witnesses around," Speed Demon chides, "I could have more subtly taken out Black Talon's bodyguard."

Boomerang spits on the wet ground, "S***, Sanders. Who but the wicked are even out in this weather?"

"Oh my God!" exclaims an agog passer-by at the two thugs in motley, wonky costumes.

"What the . . ?!" ejaculates another running across the street.

"Hi, we're from New York City," the goon with a boomerang on his brow gives them a wave.

"You're the Sinister Syndicate," identifies one beat cop walking his beat down 6th Street.

"Where are Rhino, Beetle, and Hydro-Man?" grills his partner.

Speed Demon cracks wise, "Rhino is in west Africa. Beetle has reformed. And, Hydro-Man is right here." Indigo gloves indicate the pouring wet.

"Don't get smart with the Canton PD," admonishes one officer, "We have Howard the Duck about sixty miles north."

"Do you really think that Howard the Duck could best ol' Boomerang?" Boomerang retorts. He brandishes his namesake weapon.

A policeman produces a pistol from his rain poncho. "Freeze!" he puffs water vapor into the cool air.

Slickly, Speed Demon seizes Boomerang by the waist and slings him to the Stark County Library entrance, blocks away. "I like beating and bullying non-powered folks as much as the next supervillain," the Demon confesses, "But, we have a chickens*** rogue in a rooster outfit to tear apart."

"Mr. Barone might not be in his rooster outfit. The cocky creep might be incognito," malcontent Myers speculates. He politely gets the door for Speed Demon.

Upstairs, two inconspicuous evil individuals converse over future dark deeds, present circumstances, and the awesome powers of the universe. Karl Mordo studies Samuel Barone staring back across the table. The necromancer needs a moment. His jaw drops slightly, but his open mouth does not speak.

Seemingly, Mordo reads Barone's mind, "You are shocked and somewhat put off by my plan."

"No s***!" Talon pronounces, "There must be a better way."

"You said that the absent arm is in a Bag of Infinite Capacity," the master occultist argues, "Good luck finding it in there. You need to go to it instead."

"Why?" Barone does not understand.

"Because," the Baron explains, "Even I cannot search Infinity efficiently, and I am, rightfully, Earth's supreme sorcerer."

"There has to be another way!" Black Talon balks, "We could kidnap Bailey the Bag Lady and force her into fetching the limb from the magic bag bonded to her abilities."

Mordo wags a finger, "For such action, Attache associate Hellcat would soon pursue us, and she would bring my nemesis Dr. Strange with her."

Talon throws forth a left hand, "Dr. Strange dueling you is something that I am willing to risk."

Calmly, the arcane aristocrat continues reasoning, "You need to go to your limb instead of retrieving your dead, mummified appendage. You must rebirth your entire body through its displaced part. Granted, the unholy process hurts like hell. The preternatural extrusion is pure agony. However, you will have a living extremity once again, not an attached necrotic piece of meat."

"I do not wish to be part zombie," the houngan admits.

Baron Mordo says, "Very well then. It is simple. We need to ask a death god or other cosmic entity to extrude your living form through the dead flesh floating in the Bag of Infinite Capacity that Asgardian immortal Casiolena provided the girl witch."

Sam Barone shakes his head, still struggling. He suggests, "Otherwise, we could get the amputated arm and then contact Dr. Victoria Frankenstein. You must know her."

"I do know the Frankensteins," Baron Mordo acknowledges, "But, contacting Baron Samedi might be our better option."

"Baron Samedi guides me always," Barone states, "But, Baroness von Frankenstein might better fix the Black Talon's removed, wizen wing. Without causing me pain, she could rehydrate the pruned part in a tray and restore its humors. With me sedated, she could graft. . . . ."

The maimed miscreant pauses. The local loa report dual danger approaching. Samuel is about to tell his companion, but Karl states that he already knows. Baron Mordo senses the Sinister Syndicate—and has a plan.

Downstairs, Boomerang surveys the ground floor like an aboriginal hunter seeking prey. Beside him, Speed Demon does likewise. But, neither man spots Samuel Barone. Certain patrons gaze back at the Sinister Syndicate in their spectacular suits, but no one utters a word, unsure and uneasy about the audaciously-dressed recent entrants. Then, Boomerang lights a cigarette, and some bold frowns appear.

Myers blows a stream of smoke and smiles. He whispers to Sanders, "I wouldn't recommend this habit. You're a runner."

James shakes his head. Speed Demon and his associate do not have time for any delay or jokes. Soon, the Canton cops will follow the Sinister Syndicate into the library, and they might wisely summon some powered allies to accompany them. The Midwest is not bereft of champions, and Captain Ultra or somebody could get here fast.

The speedster states, "Fred. Concentrate! What's the plan?"

"Well, for one thing, we should follow the library rules," Fred's cig points to a poster of library directives. One indicates that the building is a quiet place.

"Oh! So, no loud conversations!" Speed Demon blurts, momentarily mercurial and impatient.

Boomerang exhales slowly. He says, "I figure that we should not announce our presence. Let Black Talon's assassination come as a surprise to him. Let us be quiet and follow the rules."

"And, one of those rules is no smoking," announces an arriving librarian, "Tobacco use is not the status quo here."

Boomerang shushes the assertive archivist. "Kiss my ash," the troublemaker taps soot on the suit.

Behind goggles, Speed Demon rolls his eyes. He states, "You know, Fred, if we seek something (or someone), we could ask a librarian."

Myers savors some flavor. He wafts wisps and replies, "Well, don't waste another second, James."

In a flash, Speed Demon snags the brave bookworm and streaks toward the information desk. For a second, another staff member sees the arriving blur. Then, from behind, Speed Demon slams both librarians against the desk's countertop.

Casually, Boomerang strolls to the two hostages, having his smoke as he goes. Some panicked patrons evacuate past him. Canton folks have a metahuman in their midst, and they are not used to such in Middle America. The Australian bad-ass eyes the two suckers bent over the tabletop. Arriving at them, Boomerang brandishes his namesake weapon in each hand.

"This is a razorang," he tells the bespectacled, bun-wearing woman on his right, "It is very sharp, and it can slice your f***ing face off."

Valerie the Librarian tries to stay calm. Cold sweat escapes her scalp and runs down her cheek like a tear. Today's adventure is not like her whimsical yarns presented in _Spidey Super Stories_ years ago. And, it is not like her time at the Stark County electric company where she felt empowered. Rather, she faces the deadly foes of Spider-Man today.

Pivoting left, Boomerang shakes a shatterang, "This f***ing thing puts the 'boom' in boomerang. It can burn down this entire bibliotheca. You understand?" The burning butt bobs in the bad guy's mouth, emphasizing his warning.

Obstinately, the male (reference) clerk replies, "Burning books is not an acceptable status quo."

The super-assassin spits the coffin nail precisely into a sizable, open desk dictionary. It smolders there and chars the paper.

Myers exhales brimstone, "You don't warn me. I warn you, mac,"

"F*** you," breathes back the middle-aged, brave nebbish.

Boomerang chuckles, "What's your name, boy?"

Speed Demon raises the contrarian librarian. His nametag reads "Mac". Before Boomerang speaks, Mac spouts, "You had better back off! I'm a supervillain like you two too!"

"What?" Myers is bemused.

Mac exclaims, "I have fought Spider-Man [see _Marvel Team-Up_ #96]!"

"Who hasn't?" asks Speed Demon.

"I have fought Howard the Duck!" Mac proclaims.

"Apparently, who hasn't?" Boomerang tosses up his armed hands.

"What was your villainous moniker? Common Criminal?" Speed Demon asks the plain-looking plebian in the ugly purple tie.

"Status Quo," Mac answers his assailant.

"Well, that's an uncommonly bad handle," Boomerang states, "I'm killing you just for that."

With a fast flick of the wrist, the razorang flies past Status Quo, immediately returns, and bloodily decollates the book-keeper. His head drops. Speed Demon drops his headless body after.

Valerie screams. Wide-eyed, she ejaculates, "You guuuuys!"

"Hey, you guys, what?" Boomerang wags the returned blood-spattered razorang. He wipes it on her fearful face. He wipes her colleague's crimson on her blue blouse. Then, he stabs the weapon loudly into the countertop like a warning. Then, he takes her fidgeting hand and tells her to calm down. Speed Demon and he have questions.

Valerie stands up straight (Sanders allows her) and composes herself, "What may I do for you?"

"Has the information desk seen a one-armed man walk by today?" Myers inquires.

"I am not sure. I do not really notice disability and difference," the African-American aide gives the politically-correct answer.

Abruptly, Boomerang breaks Val's glasses with a single blow, "Now, you really don't see difference because of your own disability." Blood trickles from Val's busted nose and cut eyelids. The Sinister Syndicate ain't the most p.c. people; they are storied villains.

Speed Demon cuts to the chase, "Where is the one-armed guy exactly? He is Black like you."

"I do not know exactly," Valerie states, "But, he went upstairs." She points.

Speed Demon releases her collar. Boomerang backhands her like a punk. Pluckily, Valerie the Librarian remains standing, hands adhered to the counter and feet planted to the floor. She wishes that she were Spider-Man right now. Bystanders would come to her aid as they would a friendly, neighborhood hero.

The Sinister scoundrels fly and dash up the spiral staircase. Valerie knew to send them upstairs because Samuel Barone had visited the information desk fifteen minutes earlier. He had a picture of a regular patron who reads the Romanian texts on the second floor. Of course Val could recall someone, with an unusual request, to whom she just spoke. Otherwise, the library visitor would have blended in with everyone else.

Above, Boomerang whizzes around the second floor ceiling, shatterang still in hand. Below him, Speed Demon whizzes about on the carpet. But, neither Boomerang nor Speed Demon spies Black Talon, so neither can launch a surprise attack on Samuel Barone. _But,_ secreted in a private room, Baron Mordo and Black Talon certainly can launch one on them.

Moments previous, both wizards psychically detected the Sinister Syndicate. For the last two minutes, the diabolical duo has discussed clever countermeasures to the incoming attack. Presently, Black Talon believes that they have the two approaching asses in their clutches, so Samuel Barone struts from his concealment.

Like cocky chanticleer, the rooster rogue crows to the ceiling and ululates across the floor. Boomerang dives, and Speed Demon drives toward him. Hastily retreating, Barone steps back and closes the door.

Closing in, Boomerang expects to blow the door. After Fred does that, Speed Demon expects to barrel into the room and begin his attack. But, within the room, Baron Mordo merely calmly raises a palm and mutters "reflection" while Boomerang hurls his petard without. The boomerang bomb detonates entirely backwards onto the two charging raiders. The blast blows Myers into the skylight overhead where glass and steel perforate his body armor—before he drops to the floor far below. Through the open ceiling, cold rain patters upon him. Despite his toughness, Sanders meets injury as well. The blast's concussion whips the speeding blitzer back and crashes him through solid bookcase after solid bookcase. He lands beneath a pile of burning, heavy debris. Ever headstrong, Sanders tries standing to quickly attack again. However, he stops posthaste. A piece of shelf has painfully impaled his thigh.

Beside Black Talon, Baron Mordo lazily gestures, and the reading room doors open of their own accord. Mumbling something, Mordo manifests two great, glowing chains in mid-air. The heavy chains float abreast the magician for a moment so that the ailing assailants can behold the spectral coils and wonder how the eerie links might strike to lugubrious effect. Flicking his fingers, the Baron flings the charmed chains like fishing lines—or scourges. One wraps hobbled Speed Demon's wrist before he can even react. One snags Boomerang's body, sanguine by shrapnel, about the waist. Then, Baron Mordo jerks the outmatched idiots telekinetically toward him. He casts them carping into a magic portal suddenly open in the room. Karl and Samuel smile at them as Fred and James sling past. Boomerang and Speed Demon disappear into the aperture, which disappears after them.

"That portal is actually still there," Mordo points to empty space occupied by seemingly normal empty space, "I simply keep it hidden in this hideout I ever need to escape quickly from Dr. Strange, Squirrel Girl, or whomever."

"Does it lead to Castle Mordo in Varf Mandra, Transylvania?" Black Talon guesses.

The Baron shrugs, "Eh, it leads to Transylvania. But, why flee to where your enemies will obviously look?"

"You are clever," Barone compliments the Baron.

"Thank you," the conjurer accepts the compliment, "Now, shall we continue our dealings elsewhere? Surely, local authorities will respond to an explosion." Already, approaching sirens wail outside. Two beat cops reported supervillains in Canton.

"Let us do a disappearing act," Mordo's companion agrees.

In a fierce fulguration, Baron Mordo teleports his associate and himself into the dark and stormy day.

Later and elsewhere, as the sun sets in California, Mike Nero amuses himself. He jokingly asks She-Hulk, "Are you here to get me off? On the criminal charges I mean."

Jaded Jen Walters just shakes her head, high above the seated scumbag shackled to a table. She speaks, "No, I am not here as your public defender, dips***. As your kidnap victim, that situation might be a conflict of interest anyway."

"You were a prosecutor in the past anyway," Nero notes.

"And, I am an Avenger now," Walters nods, "So, I have made a career of handling bad guys."

"Well, I know you almost handled my uncle back in the day," Nero snarks back.

Abruptly, She-Hulk snatches Enforcer's shooting hand and snaps it back. Her Herculean hand does not actually break his wrist, however. She-Hulk knows her own immense strength well, and Jen considers herself a hero. But, the hold hurts like Hades.

Teeth grinding, the hitman is a brave boy who avoids screaming. But, he does soon gasp, "Please stop. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

She-Hulk releases her grip. From the corner, a SHIELD agent steps forth and gives Jen a look. Mockingbird is not sure that she approves of her colleague's current methods. But, she cannot necessarily say much. Occasionally, Bobbi Morse has been likewise hard on scuzzballs and murderers.

Killer Mike repeats panting, "I'll tell you what you want to know."

"So tell me," a green hand grabs churl's chin.

"Why were you in Massachusetts this noon?" Agent Morse investigates. She-Hulk frees his jaw to speak.

"The usual. I had people to shoot and messages to send. I am the Enforcer," the Enforcer admits, "In this case, the Tuttles of Cape Cod had ticked me off, for they sheltered M'Baku of Wakanda. Man-Ape had made me really mad when he overthrew the Lethal Legion's Grim Reaper and he blew-up Commander Kraken's submersible to do it."

"Wait," She-Hulk signals time-out, "Please tell me that a kooky Commander Kraken encounter is not in my crimefighting future. I thought that that dud dastard was dead."

"Commander Kraken is as ended as Eric Williams," Enforcer assures.

"Good, I am embarrassed enough to have recently faced Dr. Angst and you," She-Hulk swipes her brow, "I would have to send my buddy Marrina Smallwood—with a sack over her head—to any undersea Kraken action."

"What's the matter, Jen? I thought that you liked facing foul seamen," Nero baits "Didn't an Atlantean once sucker you good into a trap here in L.A. [see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #12]?"

"One did," She-Hulk places a hard hand on Enforcer, "Remind me to tell you about my adventures with Warlord Krang sometime. Once, he threw me to behemoth monster Orka. Later, we formed a reluctant and revolting alliance against armageddon. Yet another time, he made me a bride of sorts against my will. Maybe, he could do the same for you."

"I could have used Krang to salvage the Kraken wreckage in Block Island Sound," Enforcer asserts.

Walters has been very curious about the events in Block Island Sound. Nero seems to know more than she does. She says, "Go on."

The captured crumb continues, "Commander Kraken kept collected ill-gotten acquisitions on a secreted submarine under the sea off Rhode Island. Amongst his booty, he had my uncle's original Enforcer mask and pistol. I intended to fetch those heirlooms at some point. However, M'Baku decided to demolition Kraken's craft—spreading my precious crap across the seafloor."

"So, how do you intend to fetch your precious s*** now?" Mockingbird inquires. She knows that, surely, Enforcer intends to do so.

Nero sits straight, "After snuffing She-Hulk, and after snuffing Black Talon for stealing my car and slaughtering my horse, I intended to steal the stuff from the scavengers who stole it from the blast site."

Walters leans in, "Do you mean the Tuttles? Did they collect the crap? Is that why you were in Massachusetts?"

Nero boldly leans forward, "No, I was on Cape Cod to kill Man-Ape."

"The Lethal Legion wasn't going to last long with you around," Morse quips.

"My plans ever spare Nekra," Mike smirks, "She deserves a happy ending with Mandrill."

"Despite his back hair?" Jen rejoins.

"Says the woman who married Man-Wolf," the thug taunts and winks.

Suddenly, She-Hulk yanks Enforcer's shackles chain and gets him very close indeed. She hisses, "After snuffing me, you meant to raid whom?"

Enforcer replies, "Not the Massachusetts Tuttles of Truro but the Hayes household of Visigoth."

Surprised, She-Hulk releases and steps back. She has an old ally who lives at Hayes Manor in Visigoth, Massachusetts. Heiress Purple Hayes is the vigilante Nosferata. The journeyman justice-seeker rarely ventures forth, so her associate wonders why she is involved in the current caper.

"Are you sure that Purple Hayes has your uncle's mask and pistol?" She-Hulk asks.

"Who else but Nosferata has the chiropteran-themed mini-sub to go get them?" Enforcer replies.

Jen frowns. Apparently, Mike Nero knows that Hayes is Nosferata.

"And," Enforcer interjects, "Nosferata is not some benevolent hero—like you think—simply possessing the supervillain stuff for safe keeping. She isn't some Doc Savage. Rather, Purple Hayes has become more creepy and nasty like her vampire namesake." At this statement, the L.A. SHIELD office is all ears.

Far from La-La Land, Fred Myers tumbles through gravel and dust where Mordo's magics whipped him. Beyond Boomerang, Speed Demon does a head-over-heels until he hits stone stairs rising far up a hill. Upon the hill, a castle sits beneath the waning moon. And, from that castle, three comely women in white dresses descend as though prancing on air. In no time, they are upon Speed Demon, and he sees that their complexions are as fair as their airy flaxen frocks. With unusual strength and impeccable grace, one lady lifts James Sanders quickly to his feet, and her bloodless eyes gaze deeply into his widening ones. From her growling mouth, fangs descend, and her grip tightens on him. Her cursed companions flow past him as though the miasmic mist of midnight. They approach crimsoned Myers. Bravely, he brandishes two wooden boomerangs on the Brides of Dracula. He wonders whether they do anything through vampires' hearts. Surprisingly, the Sinister assassin smiles at Mordo's cunning. The sneaky sorcerer has slung the Sinister Syndicate into Transylvania a quarter-world away from Ohio. Well-played. Boomerang will have to kill both Black Talon and Baron Mordo if the assassin ever escapes Castle Dracula.


	13. Chap 13: The Belfry

**Chapter 13: The Belfry**

Jessica Drew assesses Purple Hayes seated across from her.

On one hand, Ms. Hayes has a bookish appearance. Her glasses are big and thick-framed. She wears a lavender oxford (over white blouse) and indigo slacks. Her figure is slight. Her cropped hair parts nerdily to the right, and Purple Hayes even has a nerdy name, if one is honest.

On the other hand, Hayes holds a steaming cup of tea perfectly balanced on her fingertips beneath a cool, stony expression. Purple has been perfectly calm during this interview although she must know who Jess Drew is and why she is here. Despite any nerdy appearance, this apparent poop is actually sharp as a fang. Hayes is actually Nosferata. This effete heiress is a poor man's Nighthawk, and Spider-Woman might want to respect that fact—at least a little.

Purple Hayes assesses Jessica Drew seated across the living room.

After an hour chatting, the dilettante detective knows who Jess is and why she is here at Hayes Manor. Ms. Hayes might not be the world's greatest detective, but the slight She-Bat is not a complete lightweight and bumbler. In this parlor, Purple has not let Spider-Woman draw her into her web. Throughout discussion, Hayes has oppugned, obfuscated, and observed.

Purple Hayes has even astutely noticed that Jen Walters is not here deposing her. Friend She-Hulk has sent Jess instead. Porfiry Purple ponders. Possibly, the green gal-pal wants to hide her involvement in this investigation. Possibly, She-Hulk fears a confrontation over sticking her nose into Nosferata business. Possibly, Purple is no longer trusted to be truthful to Jen, so Jen dispatched investigator Drew to interview her. So deduces the insouciant sleuth.

Clearing her throat, Drew starts to summarize the ladies' conversation, "So, you do have the silver mask and pistol from the original Enforcer. You do not deny diving as Nosferata to retrieve them from Block Island Sound."

Hayes states, "That is correct. My assistant Freda and I salvaged them for safe-keeping."

"They are safer here than on the ocean floor?" Drew asks.

Hayes answers, "Well, a person can also keep items for sentimental value. Any evil-doer's artifacts have historical significance, and I collect them in my Nosferattic above us. Call me eccentric."

"Fine, you're eccentric," Jess says with a smirk, "May I see the Nosferattic?"

Purple smirks back, "No, it is Nosferata's secret hideout. If I took you up there, I might have to kill you." Hayes titters. To her credit, she does not do it nervously.

"I see," Jess bats her eyes, "Has Jen ever been in your clandestine den then?"

"Sure," Purple says—before saying nothing further.

"Oh," Spider-Woman swiftly stands. She stares down her subject.

Interestingly, Nosferata remains calmly seated. She sips tea and assesses whether the Avenger is about to attack. Deciding not, Hayes continues showing all of the confidence in the world. Spider-Woman saunters forward while keeping Hayes solidly in her sight. The Purple Hayes does not crack a bit.

Continuing to study the She-Bat, Drew stops just short of her subject on the sofa. The private eye looks Purple over from the planted shoes on the carpet to the pixie cut on her pate. Jessica ventures one more question, "Say, a Louis Dawson was in your employ, correct?"

"I told you before," Ms. Hayes states, "Yes, he worked at the Stark-Hayes Life Science Center in upstate New York."

"How do you feel about his death?" Jess probes.

Purple purses her lips. She replies, "I feel bad, of course. The deceased is a former policeman who caught some bad breaks in life. He was good people, as they say."

"Do you know why your good man was impersonating the Grim Reaper?" Jess leans in.

Hayes smirks subtly, "Maybe, Nosferata somehow inspired a gothic theme in him. I am famous, you know. A PR firm used to even ubiquitously promote my alter ego [see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #19-20]."

"Plus, Louis Dawson was the Reaper in the first place, so he was close to a Grim Reaper out of Gotham anyway," Jess suggests.

"Plus that. Sure," Purple grants.

"But, why would Reaper attack Hellcat and She-Hulk?" Spider-Woman wonders.

"I don't know. Maybe, they interfered in his business," Nosferata fixes her gaze, "Reaper did clash with Power Man and Iron Fist when they interceded in a vigilante's work."

"Did Dawson do any vigilante work with you?" Drew puts a firm hand on her fellow crimefighter.

Hayes finally looks a little angry. She intones, "Louis Dawson didn't do a damn thing for me except run security in Syracuse, New York."

"I see," Spider-Woman steps back and removes her hand.

In the room, quiet follows. Outside, the stiff wind rustles the treetops and whistles over Hayes Manor. Before Spider-Woman, Nosferata glares threateningly as though she would transform into a giant bat and sink fangs into Spider-Woman. Upstairs, Jess' super-hearing detects muffled movement and possibly machinery. Her excellent olfactory has detected whiffs of burning methane, rotting meat, and roses—a curious combo—from vents throughout the visit. But, distance and likely security measures keep Drew from detecting anything distinct in the attic.

The Nosferattic and Nosferata have (mostly) successfully kept their secrets for the last hour. Jessica Drew decides to bid Ms. Hayes "adieu to you".

"Adieu to you too, Nancy Drew," the miss winks.

"Well, Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow," Drew says. She swivels around and strides from the room without further adieu.

"Okay! Freda will see you out!" shouts Hayes behind her.

Freda Pfennigswert gets the front door and even escorts the guest to her car. That sedan speeds west a short ways to a farm with a big hill. Upon that drumlin, a Jade Giantess stands prominently against an overcast gray sky. Around her, white fog flows lazily on shifting breezes.

As air teases verdant tresses, She-Hulk gently exhales mist into the mizzle and patiently waits for her comrade to park her auto on the muddy road below. The Sensational one makes sure to enjoy the crisp, cool autumn air for a moment, for Jen is wary of what news Jessica brings. Purple Hayes has ever had heroic potential, and it is hard to accept any disillusionment about her. Still, Jessica Drew strolls through the morose fog like arriving fact. Often, Avengers must deal first in truth and then in justice.

"Salutations," Jess mock salutes.

"Hello, what is news?" Jen gets to business.

"Well, the news is not especially good," Drew informs the great green gal.

Walters frowns. Her comrade-in-arms pats her bicep for two seconds. But, two seconds is all that the duo can take to consider tough news. Avengers ever have the world's wrongs to correct, even when they must urgently confront an old ally such as Yellowjacket, Black Knight, Vision, Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Moondragon, Starfox, Tigra, or Nosferata. (Iron Man, Captain America, Captain Marvel, and the Hulk are all even more involved topics for She-Hulk).

"Shall we discuss my suspicions and discoveries?" Jess gets to business.

She-Hulk sighs, "Sure."

Spider-Woman glances right and left, "Are you certain that we should talk in this open pasture? Our gothic buddy could be hiding in the fog with a 'Miskatonic microphone' or something. Whatever she would dub her listening device."

"Nah, here is fine," She-Hulk sits upon a ready boulder, "I suggested that we meet face-to-face so that Nosferata could not tap Avengers communicators. I suggested that we meet in an open, windy space so that Nosferata would struggle to eavesdrop or to approach unnoticed. But, if she does outfox us, she does. Purple Hayes is frequently a putz, and I am always a powerhouse."

"So is Iron Man," Spider-Woman further discusses, "We could have joined Tony at the U.S. air base in the vicinity. A secure facility might have had a 'cone of silence' that we could have used."

"Get smart," She-Hulk replies, "Tony Stark is also often a putz. Except, he is the kind of puny meddler who deports my cousin into space and temporarily deactivates my gamma abilities [see _She-Hulk_ v.2 #18]. Tony is the type of putz who, when briefed about Nosferata, says that he is willing to have the 'girls' handle the Massachusetts situation. He will visit New York state where his good name has apparently been besmirched. But, rest assured, Tony Stark, the Iron Man, the Golden Avenger, can rush to our aid if need be."

"So, we women are willing to be A-Force to show an a-hole," Spider-Woman deduces.

"Yep," the green lady grins. The Web-Lady gets that this Nosferata affair is Jen's fight.

"Well, may Tony Stark find something useful to do in Syracuse," Jessica finds something nice to say, "Howard the Duck and Porcupine are already exploring the Stark-Hayes Life Science Center. Hopefully, the incorrigible Iron Man does not pester them too much in their important work."

"I hope that the boys do not have much work to do at all," Jen states, "I hope that Howard the Duck is off on a wild goose chase and that Purple keeps her best sinister swag in the Nosferattic. Enforcer and Wind Witch were rough on the Duck, and he does not deserve to encounter Elfqueen-in-a-can or something of the like."

"Surely, Howard the Duck has the tailfeathers to cover his 'buttquack'," Spider-Woman makes light, "I am sure that he planned his mission ahead."

"True. Let us plan our next move," She-Hulk nods, "What did you learn in your Hayes Manor visit?"

Detective Drew elucidates, "I learned that Purple Hayes is not as good of a dissembler as I am an interrogator. She has things to hide from her fellow heroes. And, my enhanced hearing indicated that those things are stored in the Nosferattic."

"Let us plan a panty raid on Purple for her perfidy," Walters plays with words, "Let us maraud our second New England manse in the month of November. Let us forestall future problems by policing our possibly profligate pal presently, as is apropos of Avengers."

Meanwhile. Into the Nosferattic, Purple Hayes creeps after Jessica Drew's departure. While Jen and Jess conference in the open country, Purple visits Victoria secreted in her belfry's tight quarters. In flickering light, Dr. Victoria von Frankenstein fusses with flesh fixed upright in a tin tray. Madly, she experiments. Profanely, the sick scientist sends a strobe light into the dead eyes of a man's detached head. Re-animation has not yet occurred. But—like mythical Miskatonic's Herbert West—Victoria von Frankenstein is hopeful that it will. She has worked very hard to reconstruct, rehydrate, and rejuvenate the head of Charles Delazny Jr. And, she would emulate her infamous ancestor Victor's ugsome work. She too would whimsically wish to raise the long dead.

To Vicki's left, the semi-decayed craniums of Commander Kraken and the Grappler sit in eerily illuminated jars. The formaldehyde distorts their grotesque features even further. Dr. Frankenstein will attend to them soon. For now, the mad scientist sets aside her unsuccessful Delazny experiment, and she reaches for her next sample. It is also her best subject and best chance for sick success.

Victoria sets the inert top of Eric Williams in the tray. She smiles at it. She strokes its cheek. But, the pale, expressionless extremity remains as at rest as it has been since Nosferata retrieved it from Block Island Sound. It is a dormant doodad, seemingly dead. But, Dr. Frankenstein sees its unorthodox possibilities for resurrection. Since summer, Williams has not rotted one bit. And, the infamous Grim Reaper was undead in the first place. To Frankenstein, the horrid head represents hope. She can work with it.

"I hope that your experiments succeed. I pray that they do," Ms. Hayes sneaks up on the sordid scientist.

"This one should work," Frankenstein says over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't that one work better? He is fresh and whole," Purple Hayes points to recently-deceased Louis Dawson on a gurney.

Faithful servant Freda Pfennigswert robbed Reaper's grave last week. Ms. Hayes feels for Dawson's bereft widow, who also lost a son once. But, Purple lost two parents once, and Nosferata needs to complete her mission. Nosferata needs to retire. The Dark Princess of the Night needs to disappear into further obscurity than she already has. In her entire career, Nosferata has only faced-down two supervillains: Jack Serious and Adrenazon. And, both were jokes. The She-Bat herself is a joke. She is merely a parody of Nighthawk or the fictional Batman, himself a phony character.

In her costumed guise, Purple has even been beaten black and blue by street thugs, and she has never known success without She-Hulk coming to her aid and rescue. Quite possibly, the Dark Princess could never be a mighty Avenger such as the Jade Giantess. When Iron Man contacted Nosferata to potentially join the Initiative, Tony Stark ultimately decided to pass on her. Only Purple Hayes could attract Stark's attention later by getting him to agree to invest in an upstate research facility. And, she had to do a dinner date with him. Only heiress Hayes actually matters; it would seem.

Thus, Nosferata must retire. However, in order to retire, Purple needs Timothy and Blair back. She needs her murdered parents back so that there is no reason for a Nosferata.

So, like two ghouls, Nosferata and Freda recently disinterred Purple's two long-dead loved ones. Father and Mother are not in this attic's grotesque setting, of course. Rather, their disturbed coffins lie peacefully in a first-floor parlor surrounded by roses and other deodorants.

Stories above, Timothy and Blair's dedicated daughter does what is necessary. Because of their long sleeps, Purple Hayes must let Victoria Frankenstein do extensive experimentation on evil men, criminals who might more deserve desecration than the average cadaver. With bats in her belfry, Nosferata in the Nosferattic believes that decades-old dear dead bodies must rise and walk and that these five bad human beings—Enforcer, Grappler, Kraken, Reaper, and Grim Reaper—are but stepping stones to such tenebrous achievement. Certainly, insane Dr. Frankenstein believes that, rationally, one can raise the recently dead, then the longer reposed and rotting (such as Scourge's victims), and then ultimately the nearly skeletal. That is just good science.

In Purple and Vicki's psyches, even the corpse of an ex-cop must give itself to an obscene cause. Unbeknownst to him, Louis Dawson has always been just another servant to heiress Hayes. He was crazy enough to believe that she worked in his interest. To hire him, she convinced him that the Syracuse Stark-Hayes facility would work upon both bringing back her parents and his beloved son Andy. Free of grief and ghosts, neither Nosferata nor Reaper would need their vigilante identities anymore. In the Empire State, Dr. Arthur Nagan likewise promised liberation of Louie's head. However, Dawson was always only an appendage, like servant Freda, or like the four Syracuse stooges, to prosperous Purple Hayes.

Nosferata used Reaper like a tool. She had an agent that she could send into She-Hulk's Ideahive just as She-Hulk had today sent Spider-Woman into Hayes Manor. Hayes had a loony who would don the Grim Reaper wear after Williams' unfortunate fate in Block Island Sound (although the incident did fortunately provide more test tissue). Empowered, entitled Hayes had simply objectified Dawson, and she would not mind continuing to manipulate his body and soul now.

Purple Hayes prepares to roll Reaper's bier to Dr. Frankenstein. Unexpectedly, the She-Bat's ears hear a chuckle from the mad scientist.

"Do not disturb dead Dawson, darling," Victoria requests, "Come here. I told you that this one is still alive—or undead at any rate."

The Dark Princess strolls through the shadowy lab to her companion miscreant. There, in the tin tray, Eric Williams' eyelids flutter, and his orbs frantically shift as if in a nightmare. Suddenly, his eyes snap open. Putrid tears of rot roll down his face. He screams silently—dislodged from any lungs. The dead head mussitates an execration upon the repulsive parties of its re-creation.

"Cool," the She-Bat states, "Now, I had better change into my Nosferata suit. She-Hulk and Spider-Woman are about to raid us."


	14. Chap 14: She-Hulk Smash!

**Chapter 14: She-Hulk Smash!**

 **Author's note** : I suppose that this chapter gets a squick warning. I suppose that the last chapter should have gotten a squick warning too. IMO, described scenes never go further than those in an EC comic, a '30s pulp, or certain Marvel issues. It is hard not to get a bit icky when Dr. Frankenstein and Black Talon are characters. Anyway, on to our tale.

Physics can be tricky when you're a superhero. She-Hulk assesses the stony structure sitting in the Massachusetts countryside. Hayes Manor has a shale roof through which She-Hulk's boots might shatter after the hulking heroine leaps high. However, upon arrival, her fall's force might also plummet her through the upper story's floor.

Or, Nosferata's house has a brick exterior through which Shulkie might leap into the uppermost story. The Nosferattic, her quarry's inner sanctum, is her destination either way.

Deciding, She-Hulk flexes her puissant legs. She soars high into the November night sky like a missile. Like a catapulted cannonball, she shall crash into Purple Hayes' castle. The Nosferattic probably has reinforced floors anyway.

Elsewhere, at that very moment, in Ohio, metaphysics can be tricky when you're an evil wizard. Baron Mordo looms over Black Talon who is suspended in mid-air as both magicians mutually levitate. Beneath Black Talon, black soot forms the veve, the voodoo symbol, summoning loa Sagbata—known as Baron Samedi in North America. Baron Mordo tosses upon the veve burning tobacco and a flagon of rum, for smoke and drink are some of Samedi's favorite things. Samuel Barone hopes that he is also one of the death god's favorite things, for Black Talon has been a faithful servant to Baron Samedi. Thus, Mordo and he hope that the loa of loss might grant a favor.

Such is their fervor that Karl and Samuel have even drawn another veve on the white marble of Canton's Crypt of Shadows. The two also call upon Sagbata's twin deity—the dreadful Damballah.

In unholy unison, Mordo and Barone chant and sway, their eyes rolled back. Abruptly, an unnatural dark fire ignites over the sable symbols scrawled on the floor. Impossibly, the soot lines ignite and blast a malodorous miasma throughout the entire Crypt of Shadows. In the thick supernatural smog, the meddling sorcerers cannot discern a thing except the sting in their eyes and the blinding black billows. Suddenly, from the beyond, Baron Samedi steps forth on the floating, caliginous fumes, and ophidian Damballah slithers from the fissured space beside him. Tipping his stovepipe hat, the skull-faced gent lifts the flagon in a toast and takes a deep swig. Tipping his shades, his burning orbs assesse the two fools who summoned him.

Elsewhere, in the East, Jen Walters busts through the ceiling above Dr. Victoria Frankenstein. She-Hulk lands beside her. Before the roused researcher, splinters and debris rain over some animated and agitated thing in a tin tray. The obscured, buried object (Grim Reaper's active undead head) is hidden from She-Hulk. However, other sights distract the heroine anyway. The green guardian gasps upon beholding three human heads in jars. One is old Savage foe the Grappler (in his mask), now a barbaric bauble. Another is Charles Delazny Jr. ogling his darling Jen Walters with dead eyes. The third is Commander Kraken as slack-jawed as a goldfish in a bowl.

A great, green hand seizes Victoria's shoulder. It cinches. The towering seven-footer addresses the seated woman, "Well now, that's a sick sight."

"No, I give them life!" the re-animator explains, "I am the doctor making the sick better."

With terribly tight grip, the Jade Giantess raises the wretch, "I assume that you're the mad scientist in this house of horrors."

"I am Dr. Frankenstein," Victoria informs.

"Of course you are," She-Hulk shakes her disgusted head, "I know Frankenstein's Monster [see _Fear Itself: Fearsome Four_ LS]. He is better people than you."

"And, Nosferata is a better monster than you!" proclaims the Dark Princess from the shadows.

She-Hulk recognizes her old ally's voice and silhouette. The Avenger tosses Frankenstein aside and approaches her adversary. From the attic's expanse, Nosferata flings two masses in succession. First, a bola arrives and wraps directly around Shulkie's throat. Second, an explosive whizzes past Jen (a big target) and destroys some Hayes family heirlooms kept in the attic. Ninny Nosferata misses badly. Purple expresses some blue words.

However, competent Nosferata quickly activates the electrified bola. The deleterious device is hair-raising, and it does life Jen's locks and jars her earwax. However, the collar neither chokes nor stuns She-Hulk, so she simply snaps it off. She stares down Nosferata. She will not be kept at bay.

"I saw you coming, broad," Hayes harasses, "No threat escapes the notice of Nosferata!"

"Get a closer look at me then."

Leaping forward, She-Hulk bounds upon Nosferata's body before it can move. Seven hundred pounds slams a slim figure to the floor. She-Hulk slaps it across the face—and then stops a second. She stares puzzled.

"That's a dummy, dummy," the She-Bat taunts from the rafters overhead. Sans hesitation, the devious debutante detonates the decoy with a din. The booby-trap blows the C4 charge within. She-Hulk's breast concusses and propelled particles pelt her skin. The explosion makes her sneeze irritants and shake-off dust. But, it essentially leaves Jen unaffected, although further disaffected with her friend. She-Hulk blinks thrice and becomes a bit angrier.

"You would roil Nosferata in her roost?!" the She-Bat swoops from the ceiling.

She-Hulk swats the flier to the floor. Shaking her head, Jen wonders how the plummeting Purple planned to possibly injure her. The giantess jerks the journeyman to her feet. The Avenger slugs her ex-ally in the stomach, buckling the Benedict Arnold, and flicks a forceful finger off dainty philtrum, fattening her lip. The brute backhands the dumb bitch like a brickbat, and the flummoxed fink flips in a full circle before flopping to the floor. Squatting, She-Hulk coils an indigo cape about her huge hand. Standing, Jen snaps Purple off the ground. Walters rocks the raucous reprobate unreservedly rattling Hayes' bones and brains. The chafed heroine rips the rogue rat's chiropteran cowl from her head and takes mousy Hayes' built-in corrective lenses with it. The half-blinded She-Bat squints pathetically at her opponent.

Hazy of sight, hazy in the head, Ms. Purple Hayes pronounces, "I see that. . . . ."

"Shut up and surrender," She-Hulk instructs.

Nosferata retorts, "Aw shucks. But, I thought that I could be like Batman that one time that he bested your cousin the Hulk."

"That one time might have never happened," She-Hulk scoffs, "The supposed incident involved the Shaper of Worlds [see _DC Special Series_ #27]. The Shaper of Worlds could do a lot of weird s*** with reality. Or, the reality might be that a simple-minded Hulk of that time mixed-up Batman and Defender pal Nighthawk. I shall have to wheedle facts from Living Tribunal the next time I see him."

Nosferata places her arms defiantly akimbo. She replies, "The story might or might not be canon. But, I do have a cannon just like in the story."

Woozy Purple points left. She-Hulk grows instantly concerned. Jen recognizes the glowing green eye in the attic darkness, and she knows that it is a gamma gun just like in the fictional story. Except, this gamma gun is real like the ones that Bruce Banner, Leonard Samson, Abomination, and a bunch of the gamma fraternity could tell you all about. And, if calibrated right, the gadget can strip a She-Hulk of her powers. And, if calibrated differently, it can fatally irradiate someone such as human Hayes.

Grinning, Purple presses a button on her utility belt. The gun aims automatically. She-Hulk cradles her crazy foe to protect her. Jen Walters is ever good even to her enemies. The device discharges a burning beryl beam that sets She-Hulk and Nosferata ghastly aglow. From somewhere nearby, the Avenger hears someone scream hard. But, she is unsure if it be Frankenstein (for some reason), Hayes, or herself.

Elsewhere, to the West, an eldritch glow illuminates the entire Crypt of Shadows. Suspended in a devilish triangle, Samuel Barone scintillates like an inferno, an evil mage at his apex, and two base gods at his base. Black Talon writhes and wails in agony as his flesh unnaturally wrings and runs like liquid. Fantastically, his usually firm form flows fluidly through four hundred miles of space as occult agents profanely transfuse Barone's whole body into his limb lying within the Bag of Infinite Capacity. Dark powers obscenely deliquesce their death priest from a dilated interdimensional canal. Somewhere abysmal, blood jets from an independent, mummified right forearm, and then a humerus bone juts from the same. Fresh flesh affixes upon a forming physique as foul forces rebirth Talon's right limb remains.

Anon, in Brooklyn, Bailey hears bellows from her Bag of Infinite Capacity, and Attache has never heard such from her namesake. She wonders what possibly could be in her domain that she doesn't ken. Curious, the young lady lopes to her preternatural purse. Here at the Ideahive, she feels safe enough to investigate this unexpected, auditory anomaly, for exceptional allies surround her. For example, Patsy Walker, a.k.a. Hellcat, stands but thirteen feet away (although she somehow doesn't seem to hear the horrific howls). Bailey opens the now undulating Bag of Infinite Capacity. She wonders what surprise is in the sack?

From the ensorcelled sack, a bone dagger stabs forth. It sticks Bailey through the face. Patsy hears her startling scream. Springing from her stilettos, Walker immediately jumps to aid her endangered ally. But, the Talon grasps gullet quickly and yanks Attache away in an instant. Barone pulls his prey into the Bag as into a pit. As Patsy pounces (at disappearing ankles), the Bag of Infinite Capacity ominously closes itself like a slamming coffin cover.

Within the weird vessel, a hot Haitian sun somehow blazes upon Bailey as her adversary fiercely hoists her petite flesh like a prize. Hemorrhaging heartily, semiconscious Bailey cannot quite discern her new scene. It is not one that the tote's typical mistress creates or controls. Black Talon slams Bailey onto a straw mat on stony, sandy soil. Over her, Black Talon boldly stands as fully garbed as she is now disrobed. Her eyes flutter. She gasps and gazes fearfully at the four male figures that surround her. Mordo extends a hand over her. Samedi sees her bare body reflected in his shades. Damballah flicks his serpentine tongue. Black Talon steps back and returns (to sight) with a machete. The voodoo vicar hoists the big blade—with both arms.

"My grateful sacrifice to you, my loa lords!" Barone proclaims.

The machete plummets and bisects Bailey at the abdomen, from belly to bone. Thankfully, unconsciousness nigh claims her—before Sagbata and Damballah do. The twin terrors take her two ends in their tenacious grips.

Baron Samedi grins, "Brother Damballah, tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the United States. Perhaps, we should make a wish with this ceremonial fare."

"Oh yes, let us split it," the Serpent concurs. Dreadful Damballah grimaces with grotesque glee over the gruesome goods offered in sick sacrifice by sordid sycophants Baron Mordo and Black Talon. The gutted gal goes slack. Bailey dies. The malevolent beasts tear their item in twain.

The fiend Damballah then distends to a towering height. His fingers eerily elongate along unmoving legs, and they constrict likes boas about ankles. The ophidian entity unhinges his jaw all the way to the earth. And, the snake god gobbles down his meal.

The death deity Baron Samedi holds Bailey's remains, and he gently strokes the limp lass' exsanguinated cheek. Like magic, the recently departed comes to a certain life. Stilled teeth chatter. Eyes shift. Limbs chop the air. Samedi scoops the zombie bride from the straw, and he steals the habitual thief into the dark Haitian foliage. So crosses the shoplifter and burglar the threshold into perdition.

"Well," the rooster-masked man clucks, "she met a very bad end for a very good cause—in my opinion." Black Talon wiggles the fingers of his right hand.

"Indeed, the Black Talon is back," Mordo replies, "Next, we even have another degenerate to regenerate. The Lethal Legion must last, don't you know."

Damballah speaks, "I shall go gather Eric Williams from the Atlantic sediment and fish feces. See you—and my next meal—in Massachusetts, Mordo." Giving a chilling chortle, the snake spirit disappears into the ether.

Karl Mordo exhales. He explains to Samuel Barone, "I must likewise momentarily go do some mischief. Please excuse me." Above Barone, Baron Mordo levitates into the Bag of Infinite Capacity's endless space.

Outside of the underworld, Patsy pulls at the purse, peeved that it does not open. Suddenly, the satchel does unseal itself. For a second, Hellcat beholds Baron Mordo floating in a black abyss. Then, a bright bolt stuns her, and she falls forward into the Infinite's aperture. Reeling Walker somersaults pell-mell into an unilluminated bottomless pit. Karl Mordo smiles. Striking Stephen Strange's old allies is ever fun. Gesticulating, the sorcerer seals the Bag's Brooklyn exit. Collapsing into itself, the Bag of Infinite Capacity returns to the Asgardian witch Casiolena, the enchanted object's original owner, in Niffleheim, plane of the dishonorable dead. Over her shoulder, the realm's ruler Hela observes.

Far from Hel, in Massachusetts, Jen Walters feels chilly except for Purple Hayes' hot huffing on her face and warm body pressed to her own. Hoping to protect Purple, She-Hulk has the errant heroine hugged tight as the gamma gun discharges. The gun completes delivering a massive dose of rads.

She-Hulk steps back in boots looser than usual and a slightly less snug one-piece. She is not surprised to see Jen Walters' thin, pink arms before her eyes. A glut of gamma rads can remove She-Hulk's powers temporarily. Jen looks at Purple—who approaches aggressively. Nosferata looks like she could feed on some prey. But, when her aspiring attacker arrives, Jen jabs forcefully and the puny human knocks Nosferata the fudge out. Trained martial artist or not, Nosferata is only sometimes a terror, and Jen Walters is always a warrior.

With a little concentration (and anger), She-Hulk returns to being her usual Sensational self. From a bit away, the heroine hears a scream echo through the attic. She investigates. This is the second scream that Jen has heard from Dr. Frankenstein's direction. Walters is really curious what all occurs over there.

Moments before, low researcher Victoria Frankenstein picks herself up from the floor. She watches She-Hulk go for Nosferata. A booby-trap detonates and blows dust over Frankenstein's face. She sneezes and hacks. Vexed, Madam Victoria vigorously wipes the smut from her mug and spits the silt from her mouth. Her stinging eyes and ringing ears discern and detect a din and duel at the attic's opposite end, and she sees that She-Hulk is still active. The Austrian aristocrat plans her escape. Any genius would think that Nosferata is outmatched anyway.

Across the chamber, the glowing green ray of the gamma gun fires radiantly. The mad doctor watches the blazing beam strike a hulking form. Hurriedly, Dr. Frankenstein stows a few precious possessions. Beneath some debris, her prize test subject sits—and seems to stir. Which is odd considering that Grim Reaper is but a detached head. Isn't he?

With bated breath, the bad biologist removes the debris. To Victoria's shock, she views an Eric Williams grown taller. The head has grown a neck on which to violently sway and clavicles that buttress it like crab legs. The seething supervillain silently shrieks. The disturbed scientist squeaks back.

Then, a puff adder pops forth from the Grim gaping mouth! Frankenstein nigh freaks, and she screams. For one thing, the adder is totally unexpected. For another, the six-foot snake strikes her. Its fangs sink right through her hand. Screeching, Dr. Frankenstein shakes the attached, thrashing viper. Impossibly winking, the snake whips itself lithely around, and it wraps the wretched woman's head from open mouth to wide eyes. With a good view, Damballah watches the Grim Reaper reform in the tin tray.

Effectively blindfolded, the mad scientist can only empirically hear the horror happening before her. Dr. Frankenstein hears the tin tray clatter as though overturned. She hears something thud on the floor. To her surprise, she hears a man wailing in this Nosferattic occupied only by live women—and dead men's remains. The villainess hears something like bare feet slap the floor. Then, she hears "B****, you are so f***ing dead!"

Sticking his tongue out, Damballah drops off and disappears into thin air. Victoria von Frankenstein gasps and gawks. Eric Williams stands restored before her.

"You're going to suffer!" shouts the resurrected lab rat.

Williams' stump nearly knocks the scientist's head off. Then, his whole hand cracks her one. The same hand snatches healthy arm and bites hard. Scarlet sprays and splatters into his mouth, and the zombie sucks and slurps salty serum. Vicki stares stunned. Seizing her throat, the Grim Reaper slams the woman against her desk and exam table. From a shelf, dead, desecrated villains look on in possible anticipation of justice.

"We're going to vivisect Victoria!" Eric Williams snarls.

"Sssorry, there's no time for that," someone says to the side.

Damballah, an eight-foot snake with four limbs, stands presenting a familiar six-foot scythe, "Samedi and I require a swift sacrifice for our services. We have sundry other sshh** to do tonight."

Williams offers his right limb. Dark god Damballah slams the steel home rightly. The Grim Reaper is reborn. His left yanks Frankenstein upright. He stares her down as she staggers about.

From nowhere, Baron Samedi nabs Victoria von Frankenstein. Sans warning, he steps from the shadows. Death whispers in her ear, "Your family has stolen back too many souls from me over the centuries—like one modern Prometheus after another. But, do you know what a scavenger, a vulture, did daily to that meddler?"

The Grim Reaper approaches—weapon raised. Victoria von Frankenstein screams as the blade swings and swings again. . . . . Perhaps, she wonders if Hercules will show-up to save her like in the myth.

Moments later, She-Hulk arrives. Jaded Jen studies the disturbing scene. The experienced Avenger assesses. Apparently, some monster got Frankenstein. However, no fearsome creature, besides Shulkie, stands here now. Rather, only a smallish snake stirs on the stained floor amongst the sanguine scene. Jen ignores it. It ain't gonna harm her. The Haitian tree snake slithers away, smirking.

She-Hulk studies the jars and feels sad. No scoundrel deserves such posthumous disrespect. The Avenger sighs.

Then, she inhales sharply.

She-Hulk notices that the jar labeled "Eric Williams" is empty. The crimefighter considers the victim's segments on the floor. Victoria's killer would have to. . . . .

The Avenger's communicator trills, interrupting her thoughts. It is Tony Stark calling from Syracuse.

An Avengers communicator also vibrates on Spider-Woman's hip and buttocks, two stories below.

"Stay down," the Web-Lady tells Freda Pfennigswert defeated on the floor.

During their donnybrook, the ol' German knew jujitsu well, and Jess figures that Freda might be an ex-intelligencer or something. However, Freda was merely more capable than expected but less capable than, let's say, a Wind Witch. Spider-Woman kind of mopped the floor with the housekeeper.

Jessica Drew draws-out her phone. It is Iron Man.


	15. Chap 15: The Mordo Mash

**Chapter 15: The Mordo Mash**

"Apparently, the Bay State needs to keep you ladies at bay," Tony Stark quips.

"Yeah, you might say that," Jessica Drew begrudgingly grants.

Jen Walters states, "I loath to admit that we lost a few souls again. But, as at Tuttle Mansion, the police and coroner are once again at a Massachusetts estate after my team visited. It's true."

"However," Spider-Woman encroaches Iron Man's space, "The dead at both places are bad guys such as the Tuttles, Dr. Victoria von Frankenstein, and—well—Reaper twice."

Shiny helmet tucked under his arm, the Golden Avenger grins glibly, "Actually, Dr. Vicki von Frankenstein is an occasional good guy. She has worked for my SHIELD." Tony corrects the Woman.

She-Hulk informs Iron Man, "Actually, Dr. Frankenstein and Purple Hayes, a.k.a. Nosferata, are two of the lost souls who we encountered."

"Ms. Hayes and her girl Friday Freda Pfennigswert, a distinguished NATO operative, are in authorities' hands after their fall from grace," Spider-Woman apprises Anthony Stark, "Furthermore, federal forensics folks aid SHIELD agents at Visigoth, Massachusetts. They collect and transport the remains of Enforcer, Grappler, Reaper, and Commander Kraken for re-internment."

"But, I believe that the body of Grim Reaper somehow got away," Stark still smirks.

"Yeah, you could say that," seven-foot She-Hulk steps toward Tony too.

"And, Man-Ape escaped the Cape Cod scene?" smarmy Stark asks.

"True," Howard the Duck interjects, "We were in no shape to apprehend M'Baku after encountering the new Enforcer, the medieval Wind Witch, Reaper, and Tiger Shark." Howard returns from his cigar break outside the Stark-Hayes Life Science Center.

"Well, it would seem that the Lethal Legion ever endures," Iron Man doffs his helm, "We shall have to track down Grim Reaper and Man-Ape after resolving matters here in Syracuse."

"Actually, Eric Williams and M'Baku are unlikely working together," She-Hulk states, "Remember how I briefed you. They are on the outs." The Amazon Avenger advises her frenemy.

"Yeah, I know that," the Armored Avenger sounds defensive.

Spider-Woman pats Shellhead patronizingly, "The Lethal Legion leader is likely invading Canada soon. The Ice Box superprison has his lover and partner-in-crime Nekra."

"Yeah, I could tell you that," Iron Man resists pushing away Spider-Woman. He won't give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Before the Northwest Territories, let us discuss what we have done here in New York," Porcupine sticks himself into the conversation. He keeps the company on-topic.

"Very well," Howard assents, "We three heroes whupped four bad guys but good."

In the large laboratory, SHIELD personnel parade past the Headmen in restraints and on stretchers: Gorilla-Man, Shrunken Bones, Chondu the Mystic, and Ruby Thursday. Henchmen, not worth mentioning, lie in heaps here-and-there for state cops to handle.

"We three—Howard the Duck, Porcupine, and I—canvassed the research compound before entering," relates Stark, "I was miffed to find my Stark Unlimited money compensating the Headmen for services."

Howard informs, "The mischievous masterminds were researching regeneration and other unnatural forms of human restoration."

"Specifically, they wanted to raise the dead," says Porcupine.

"Such as the dead heads that Jen found in the Nosferattic," proposes Porcupine's boss Spider-Woman.

"Eureka," scientist Stark tells detective Drew, "The Headmen intended to literally raise dead dastards' domes atop automated bodies that the villains—or their allies such as Nosferata—could control."

"Those bozos have tried that same tactic before," Walters rolls her eyes (see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #1), "I recall the quartet capturing me for such sordid and silly experimentation."

"Naturally, the Headmen only had interest in the one part," comments Jessica, "Gorilla-Man and his gang must have inspired collaborator Dr. Frankenstein to mutilate the dead as she did."

"Plus, have you ever seen the movie _Frankenstein's Army_?" Porcupine interjects, "Frankenstein's activities are basically the plot of the movie. A demented doctor just takes human parts and builds them into cyborg bodies. Thereby, the mad scientist creates a legion that should last forever."

"My armor's computers indicate that that title is but an obscure direct-to-video," Iron Man tells Porcupine, "So no, no one who is anyone has seen that film, prick."

"Not so," offers Howard the Duck, "I love my creature comforts. Of course I have seen _Frankenstein's Army_! Beverly and I watched it in bed."

"I saw the movie when it was called _Overlord_ ," She-Hulk tells Tony just to contradict him.

Anthony's ego requires him to be the smartest guy in any room. To that end, Iron Man offers, "Anyway! Besides cybernetics, someone might have wanted to pick those poor villains' brains—literally. A mad scientist can always probe decomposing neurons for chemically-recorded information. Or, an evil genius can always reawaken and then interrogate someone such as in _The Brain That Wouldn't Die_. In either case, the decollated criminal cannot cause the reprehensible researcher harm, for the felon is utterly disarmed and disembodied."

"Hmph," She-Hulk finds Iron Man's exposition unimpressive, "Speaking of disappeared bodies, has anybody heard from Patsy lately? One would expect her to check-in with us about our mission."

"I texted her," communicates Howard, "However, no one replied."

"I wonder where she could be," Roger Gocking wonders, "She is going to miss Turkey Day tomorrow." The Duck gives Porcupine the evil eye.

Four thousand miles away, Patsy Walker looks into the surprised face of Fred Myers. Befuddled Boomerang wonders how the blazes Hellcat found his fellow and him in Vienna, Austria. Beside Boomerang, Speed Demon wonders why Walker is in a skirt and sweater, office casual, instead of a cat costume supersuit. Then again, the incognito Sinister Syndicate is also in street clothes. They need to sneak and skulk while escaping Europe. Perhaps, heroine Patsy, a.k.a. Hellcat, is likewise inconspicuous, although unshod and stockingfooted, to stalk supervillains.

Stepping back, Walker wonders where Baron Mordo went and what the Sinister duo are doing before her. However, she ponders but briefly. Taking action, Hellcat hops high before Boomerang. Her leg swings deftly to deliver a flying ax-kick. However, the heroine's heel never hits, for the criminal's comrade charges forth like lightning. Speed Demon hooks Hellcat about the hip and zig-zags violently through the Vienna Bahnhof, the train station. The harsh locomotion bends Patsy in half at the gut. Two seconds later, the fast fiend brakes. Impellent force flings a female form through the air, hands and feet flailing, before smashing her through a "shatterproof" ticket window. A beautiful blur bowls over station staff and stationary stuff before bouncing off an office wall and flopping limply to the floor.

As in New Orleans, Speed Demon has downed Hellcat. Here in Vienna, the supervillain stops to speak.

"Listen, lady," James Sanders says, "Fred and I got screwed by Baron Mordo. He translocated us half-way around the world from the U.S. We're just trying to get home after fighting vicious vampires in Transylvania, evading Interpol in Hungary, and infiltrating Austria under the radar. We ain't in the mood to fight."

Fuming, the feisty feline flips herself to her feet. "Well, I am!" Hellcat hisses.

Her hands go tiger claw, and her puss projects fury. The Demon considers the Hellcat. In a flash, James Sanders drops back and fetches Fred Myers to his side. It is midnight in Austria, but the three Americans fix eyes like it is high noon. Then, Patsy pounces upon the outlaws, and. . . . .

Four thousand miles west, Sasquatch slaps aside heroine Snowbird. The do-gooder goddess skids across the frigid ferrous floor of the Ice Box in the Northwest Territories. The Canadian superprison can hold the worst trespassers of the Great White North from obscure Sickle (see the _Maverick_ series) to the infamous Deadpool. Currently, the keep has Nekra Sinclair as a guest.

Lethal Legionnaires Grim Reaper and Black Talon have come to emancipate Nekra after She-Hulk and Marrina nabbed her in Newfoundland. Marrina's Alpha Flight ally Sasquatch aids them, for Baron Mordo magically mind controls the Great Beast on this mission. Snowbird confronts her commandeered comrade because the Northwest Territories are her turf, and she is the first good guy to respond upon the prison's distress signal.

"Hurry up before other Alpha Flight arrives!" Grim Reaper orders his compatriots. A savage scythe stabs and slashes prison security surrounding him. Energy bolts blast incoming prison guards farther away.

Black Talon hurries as ordered. He has a guard in a hammerlock and hauls the man forward. Ahead, the heathen and hostage halt at a certain cell. Through the door-slot, Nekra studies her rescuer. She smiles slyly at Samuel. Black Talon slugs the staff several times to soften him. He puts a dagger to the shaken man's throat.

"This door opens somehow!" Barone bellows, "I can remove your hand, your eye, or whatever and see if the cell has a biometric lock! I can torture you until you give me a code or your key card! Or, you can just unlock the g*****, f****** door!"

"Pal, I am just here for the paycheck," says the penal agent, "I shall just open the g*****, f****** door."

"Good," Black Talon releases the man to let the lily-liver liberate Nekra.

"But," the agent adds, "I cannot open any of these prison doors. Only the man monitoring the security feeds can. Otherwise, our dangerous inmates would take floor staff hostage all of the time."

"Oh," Black Talon replies, "I'll take no prisoners other than Nekra then." Steel slashes a "pig", staining scarlet upon the wall.

Nearby, Grim Reaper's whirring blade rips through a man's body armor, turning the corridor into an abattoir. Eric announces, "Like I said. Let's move before other Alpha Flight arrives. Northstar and Aurora could fly in at any moment. Guardian and Vindicator could arrive soon after that. Then, Shaman and Talisman might poop the party. Alpha Flight has redundancies for its redundancies, and each duo could wreck my happy reunion with Nekra. They could screw-up things in stereo."

"So, let Alpha Flight member Sasquatch wreck something constructively," Baron Mordo speaks. The magus slides through the air, alights on the floor, and points his ensorcelled slave toward Sinclair's cell door.

Giant furry fists buffet and barrage the steel barrier. Fingers nearly fracturing, bestial Sasquatch howls, drools, and bleeds. Droplets of spit and blood blot the floor beneath the furious beast. Examining the floor, Baron Mordo spots a clear gas distorting the lower air. From low vents, it jets and gathers in the narrow hall. He gasps at the gas.

"What the hell is that stuff?" Grim Reaper notices too.

"Knock-out gas I would guess," answers Baron Mordo, "And, based on the odor, that dreck is ether. It is both a powerful anesthetic and a hell of an incendiary. Apparently, the Ice Box cadre could make things really hot."

"I can't get severely burned again!" Black Talon protests, "I just got over being half-immolated!"

Grim Reaper is less concerned than Black Talon. In fact, he is even a little impressed. "You know, I am a little impressed," Eric comments, "Most sleeping gases would not affect someone who doesn't breath, but highly-flammable ether could cremate the Grim Reaper, especially if I fire a bolt into it. The Ice Box's upstairs must be thinkers."

"Well, they certainly are thinking more than I am right now," Mordo surprisingly states. His voice sounds somewhat high and heady.

Grim Reaper and Black Talon look. Either would prefer that the ether not affect the Legion's most powerful asset. Together, their eyes go a wee wide. Baron Mordo wobbles in apparent wooziness. Barone and Williams worry, for it would be woe if Sasquatch left the wizard's psychic control. Already, the monster Marvel stands still and slack-jawed instead of slugging away at the strong door. Then, Sasquatch even blinks with some cognizance.

Keen to the danger, Black Talon takes his colleague conjurer's collar. "Concentrate, Karl!" he commands, "What thinking do you need to do?" Samuel shakes the sorcerer.

"Well, I should do this," Baron Mordo flicks his fingers and phonates magic gibberish. Sasquatch is free!

"F***!" declares the Legion in unison. Even Nekra joins in.

"And, I should have just thought of this earlier," the dizzy wizard waves his hand. Instantly, an aperture appears within the locked cell door. Nekra is free!

"And, I should have thought of this just now," Grim Reaper whirls his weapon near the floor, and the action propels a wave of gas away from the raiders. In fact, it even sends the knock-out vapors toward the towering titan coming to.

But, what Williams doesn't think of just now is that Nekra currently steps from her cell. The ether arrives. Nekra swoons, staggers, and slumps forward—falling against Sasquatch. In turn, huge hero Sasquatch hugs her to keep her from falling further. Then, the eddying ether hits hairy nostrils. The Great Beast shuffles and stumbles with Nekra in his arms, seeming to dance with her, them both delirious. Abruptly, the drugged giant drops. And, one ton falls atop poor Nekra!

"Noooo! My love!" screams Grim Reaper. He lifts his large blade as though to butcher the "Bigfoot" crushing his sweetheart.

Suddenly, Snowbird swoops in like an angry Inuit spirit. Fists forward, the bolting flier knocks the wind from Black Talon. Wings wide, the recovered goddess ascends to the ceiling—before swiftly descending upon Grim Reaper. Like a great owl, the shapeshifter's taloned hands take Williams by the right arm (his weaponized limb) and haul him hurdling down the hallway. Snowbird scrapes, skids, slams, strikes, and smacks Grim Reaper off the steel surroundings before releasing him bleeding and buffeted high over the ground. Grim Reaper plummets as Snowbird pivots back toward Baron Mordo. Williams hits the firmament hard, breaking bones.

From overhead, Ice Box guards appear with automatic rifles. They open fire on injured Eric seeking to avenge their slaughtered co-workers. Their blazing bullets shred the sentient zombie's flesh wherever he lacks body armor.

Down the corridor, the angry goddess Narya confronts Baron Mordo. With a resounding clamor, she lands before him. Before he can react, she becomes a behemoth bear, and her massive paw bats him across the face. Brains rattled, Mordo struggles to summon an immense eldritch blast. It discharges through the giant, growling goddess. The unmitigated energy undoes Snowbird's transformation, and the bear becomes womanly once more. In turn, the incensed she slaps the insolent mortal savagely several times. With shaky hands, the magic-man summons an unsteady thaumaturgic translucent shield.

To the side, unconscious Sasquatch stirs as though awakening. But, it is actually an angry Nekra who quivers his flaccid furry form. With Nekra, the angrier she gets, the stronger she gets. And, she suddenly squat-presses limp Walter Langkowski now. Heroine Snowbird stares at the risen threat, and villainous Nekra glares back. The viragos toss their subdued males aside and challenge each other like vexed vixens. . . . .

Moments later, the Lethal Legion and Baron Mordo emerge into the artic November outside the Ice Box. Grim Reaper puts his left arm over Nekra, "My beauty, I cannot compliment you enough on how you saved our bacon."

"What can I say? The Lethal Legion lasts," replies Nekra, "especially when a lass loses her temper and lashes out."

"I was in awe," Black Talon acknowledges, "Even Snowbird and Sasquatch could not conquer us."

"Yeah, bring on the rest of Alpha Flight. I'll beat 'em with one arm behind my back," Grim Reaper jokes and jives.

Suddenly, an incredible flash of light blinds the Lethal Legion—and Baron Mordo—from above. Twin threats Aurora and Northstar have arrived. Accompanying them, Vindicator and Guardian converge from the east and the west. From behind the bad guys, Talisman and Shaman manifest from thin air. Puck even pops-out from the bushes.

Blinded Baron Mordo blares, "Hold them off! Don't let them defeat us before I teleport us to New England!"


	16. Chap 16: Lasts?

**Chapter 16: Lasts?**

Baron Mordo looks out from the Bleeker Street loft. Across the way, Dr. Strange's Sanctum Sanctorum sits. A gentle St. Nicholas Day snow falls outside the open window, and the villain sees his "smoky" breath like a dragon's.

Around Baron Mordo, the Lethal Legion languidly looks on. Each, except Black Talon, wears an Amulet of Damballah dangling from the neck. Like yokes, the necklaces link the Lethal Legion to their liege Black Talon. And, loyalty binds Black Talon to his mentor Baron Mordo who also manipulated his mentee into becoming a Judas.

Such was necessary. The moment that the Lethal Legion arrived in Massachusetts (magically from the Northwest Territories), Grim Reaper and Man-Ape attempted killing each other.

The Wakandan wonder was in Worcester watching the news of the Visigoth battle. He wondered how She-Hulk had escaped Enforcer and if Spider-Woman had helped her do it. It irked him that the Web-Lady had excluded him from the heroes' activities. So, like any small person, M'Baku told himself certain things to make himself feel better. He understood that munificent Marvels do not always want a Man-Ape in their mix. Ghekre's earthly representative might prove too awesome for them, and the heroes would likely betray the White Gorilla's avatar, outlier and outlaw that he is. So-called "heroes" squelch extraordinary men's machinations all of the time. They are petty in that way.

The ten o'clock news continued. Boston anchor Roger Browne promised footage of a metahuman fight from Vienna—after an ad break. On television, attractive Elsa Bloodstone encouraged people to visit Bloodstone Curios in Boston. Then, Frost International advertised that its assembly line was now hiring. The television's light illuminated M'Baku's heavy eyes as he rested on the hotel bed. The Allan Hotel was quiet this early Thanksgiving morn.

Suddenly, sparks flew in the dead of night. A dazzling nimbus filled the room and, in it, four phantastic forms flitted like will-o-the-wisps. The phantoms surrounded M'Baku on the bed. The warrior swiftly rose ready for conflict. However, fair Nekra materialized from the magnificent light, and her firm hands gently pushed M'Baku back to the mattress. The White Gorilla gazed at the albino black woman, and the Wakandan wondered how the witch had arrived. Normally, she knew no translocation magic. Then, M'Baku noticed Baron Mordo standing there.

Then, he noticed that the Priestess of Hate had pinned him firmly to the bed as though the vamp would make a virgin sacrifice. Next, Man-Ape noticed Grim Reaper to his right raising his namesake blade. Apparently, Eric intended to pay back M'Baku for killing him hence, and Williams' woman Nekra intended to help. With great reflexes, a huge hand grabbed the descending scythe's handle. A long arm catapulted Grim Reaper toward the room's window. Williams crashed through four stories above ground. Nekra snarled. M'Baku swung his prehensile feet upward. He cinched them solidly about her cranium. Powerful legs launched Nekra through the plaster wall into the adjacent hotel room. Fortunately, no one occupied it this holiday weekend.

Still, the Lethal Legion was disturbing the peace, and Baron Mordo knew it. "Quit with the commotion," commanded Baron Mordo, "You'll bring cops and maybe costumes."

"Don't care," Man-Ape easily curled the king-size mattress from his bed. He swatted the sorcerer with it. Karl cracked the room door upon impact.

"Calm down, M'Baku," Black Talon touched his buddy's back.

"Yeah, cool it so that I can kill you, traitor," Grim Reaper called from the window. Williams left hand latched to the ledge when his body broke the glass.

"I shall compromise, Brother Barone," Man-Ape stated stepping toward Grim Reaper, "I shall calmly kill Mr. Williams here."

Unexpectedly, a flying sofa walloped M'Baku. Nekra hurled it from the side. Man-Ape roared with rage. His raised fists fractured the ceiling with a royal ruckus.

"Aaaah!" Baron Mordo shouted, "You a**holes are all too f***ing loud!" Karl glowered greatly. Teeth gritted, Mordo mumbled fervidly under his breath.

Instantly, the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak silenced and seized three trouble-makers. Glowing gags muzzled big mouths. Unearthly energies immobilized a Man-Ape, and mystic manacles manifested upon him. From nowhere, numinous binding bound Nekra and reeled the wrapped witch to the vexed wizard. From Baron Mordo, a fiendish fetter found Grim Reaper and roped his neck like a noose. In no time, Baron Mordo levitated the unruly Lethal Legionnaires before him. Whistling, the evil sorcerer shook his head.

A mile away, sirens split the chilly midnight responding to the recent racket. One could hear them through the "opened" window.

Black Talon unbound approached Baron Mordo. Samuel queried Karl, "What now?"

The malevolent magus asked, "Are you my faithful disciple?"

"More like your mentee, Mordo," the voodoo priest answered, "The loas guide my life."

"Fetch three Amulets of Damballah then. I need this trio under control," Baron Mordo replied, "We are going to Greenwich Village."

Black Talon was silent a second. He sunk his chin and scowled. He sighed, ""We are going after Dr. Strange, aren't we?"

In the present, Talon trepidatiously takes in the scene. Like zombies, the other Lethal Legion stands gawking at him. Through the amulets, he guides their every movement as though Samuel plays a game of Simon says. He can manipulate them like puppets, utterly controlling their motor skills. He can offer back some agency and simply utter orders, which they must do by Damballah's dominion.

Black Talon feels guilty. And, gripped Grim Reaper occasionally gives him a look that could kill, and massive M'Baku often makes an ominous grunt. But, Black Talon knows that Baron Mordo is no one to cross and that a man does owe him big for the return of his arm. Barone must give the Baron a hand—even if it means being a bastard to his fellow Lethal Legionnaires.

Stroking stiff Nekra's cheek, Baron Mordo coos, "Manhattan has such lovely sights."

"Do you mean Ms. Sinclair? When you molest my comely comrade like that, I can see why she becomes the Priestess of Hate," Black Talon comments.

"No," Karl clarifies, "I mean the Sanctum Sanctorum across the way. Soon, it will be mine."

For the past thirteen days, the sinister sorcerer has prepared a powerful hex to disperse the Sanctum Sanctorum's protection spells. Without defenses, the original Defender should not stand a chance against the Lethal Legion. Once the wards are cast off, the Legion will launch itself upon Strange's lair. The fierce quartet will sack the Sanctum and assassinate the Master of the Mystic Arts. Dr. Strange does not even seem to have detected the imminent assault.

Unexpectedly, Black Talon takes Baron Mordo's shoulder. The aspiring Sorcerer Supreme startles.

"Sorry," Samuel says, "Are we attacking soon?"

Mordo removes the houngan's molesting hand. "We are attacking currently," he comments, "I shall break the abode's bulwarks. You will besiege Strange's house. The situation should be four against one, but there will be also a servant named Wong, if I'm not wrong. I shall join you shortly after incursion."

Sans further ado, Baron Mordo puts the whammy on the loft wall. The apartment building's exterior explodes outward over narrow Bleeker Street. Grim Reaper under Nekra's arm and Black Talon upon Man-Ape's back, the Lethal Legion bound fearsomely forward from the awful blast. Amazingly, the detonation's dangerous debris just disappears into the gently falling snow—as though by magic.

The Legion lands in the suddenly-halted traffic before their target. Before 177 Bleeker Street, the Defenders stand, to the Legion's great surprise. Dr. Stephen Strange stands center. On his right, Silver Surfer stands shimmering with astonishing power. Near Stephen's left, Namor, the Sub-Mariner, stands smugly considering the slack-jawed supervillains. Over Strange's shoulder, She-Hulk stands staring down Grim Reaper and associates.

Eric Williams wonders, "How'd you know that we were coming?"

Stephen Strange speaks, "Never piss-off the Mandrill, man. To use the vernacular."

Jen Walters explicates, "Jerome Beechman keeps ever an eye on you, obsessed with Nekra as he is. Mandrill managed to hear of your Canadian incursion at the Ice Box. Genius that he is, Mandrill anticipated your next move thanks to Mordo, obsessed with Stephen as he is."

Dr. Strange adds, "For the past two weeks, I surveilled you felons remotely via the Orb of Agamotto. Finally, today, you four fools made your move, so I forgathered three friends of my own. We tend to reunite whenever a potential catastrophe places Earth in peril. Baron Mordo's mischief might qualify."

"We are the original Defenders," Silver Surfer schools.

"Yeah, we know. Don't patronize us," Black Talon retorts.

"We are the original Defenders," She-Hulk tutors, "Except, I am a substitute for my cousin."

"Yeah, I see that," Black Talon balks, "Your grasp of the obvious is astounding. Don't patronize us."

"Okay, howabout we pound you guys instead?" She-Hulk stomps a stupendous step and shakes the street and the Lethal Legion upon it.

In an instant, Silver Surfer shoots himself at Grim Reaper. The Surfer swipes Reaper away like a whatnot and sails skyward. Immediately, the two are in the stratosphere high over the Atlantic. Surfer deftly descends eastward. Quickly, supersonic travel shreds the costume from Eric Williams' person. Grim Reaper raises his signature scythe threateningly. Silver Surfer taps his finger upon Williams' wicked weapon, and the "dangerous" device simply melts over Madrid. Abruptly, Silver Surfer stops and releases routed Reaper. The smoking, streaking supervillain plummets like arrogant Icarus into the Aegean Sea.

A ways west, M'Baku nearly cannonballs into New York Harbor. She-Hulk has knocked him all the way to Battery Park with an incredible uppercut. The leaping Lady Liberator lands at once beside him. She yanks him upright by the chest hair.

"This is for killing the Terror," Shulkie's solid left lands.

"This is for all of the trouble that followed," the Avenger fires fists at will.

Incensed She-Hulk makes short work of strapping Man-Ape. Like the Manassa Mauler, the puissant pugilist makes mincemeat of her foe. When done pummeling, the powerhouse punts the vanquished into the Atlantic as M'Baku once did limp Laslo Pevely.

A minute previous, on Bleeker Street, Dr. Strange floats over the thoroughfare until he alights before Black Talon. "So, houngan, how's tricks?" Stephen says.

With sleight of hand, Black Talon brandishes a bone blade and stabs at Strange. "Abracadabra," the marvelous mage makes the shiv disappear into cold, thin air.

Amused, the Sorcerer Supreme asks, "Would you like to try your magic on me? Attempt some mesmerism perhaps?"

"Howabout reverse resurrection?" the death-dealer unsheathes his machete. He swings.

Strange catches the incoming arm and palmstrikes Samuel squarely in the nose. Wong has taught him kung-fu well. With two hands, he twists Talon's limb and dislodges the weapon. Valkyrie has taught him wrestling well. Wincing, the wrongdoer wrests his wrist from Strange.

Stephen steps back, "Say, what's that behind your ear?" He roundhouse kicks his foe in the head.

Talon swipes wildly with razor-tipped gloves. "Presto!" the prestidigitator produces a playing card, "Guess the card."

"What?" Black Talon is baffled.

"Clubs!" Strange conjures a bat and conks Barone's cranium and bops his beak.

Knot on his head and nasal blood dribbling, the necromancer calls it a day. "No mas. I surrender," Samuel sits his posterior on the snowy sidewalk and shakes his head.

Sixty seconds earlier, Namor kneads Nekra's noggin in a harsh headlock. She knees his back and nips his forearm. Annoyed, he nabs her throat and throws her far northward. The wicked wench lands in Washington Square Park, cratering cold dirt. Pursuing, Sub-Mariner nosedives Nekra there, forcing her form farther into the frozen soil. Furious, the femme fatale flails Namor's face and flips herself to her feet. Foaming at the mouth, she screams and scowls scarily. With a dislodged lamppost, the Lord of the Seven Seas lashes the last Lethal Legionnaire and launches her like a peculiar golf ball all the way to the next green on the Manhattan map—Union Square Park. She sails straight down narrow University Place for seven blocks through the wintry weather. Then, her durable body damages treetops and dents more earth. Prince Namor pursues with steel still in hand. His odd "iron" puts the problem-maker to Union Square's subway entrance. There, the swooning supervillain spills and somersaults down the steep stairs. Sub-Mariner strides casually after. The Avenging Son shall finish his adversary before awestruck onlookers admiring the Emperor of the Deep's prowess. He tosses the ponderous post carelessly aside. He smirks in anticipation of his victory.

However, Nekra is not at the bottom of the steps when Namor looks down for her. Sub-Mariner sighs. He supposes that royal feet must descend into the subway's dingy realm. The disdainful Defender deigns to descend into dirty, rank, dusky depths disagreeable to Prince Namor.

At the steps' nadir, Nekra's right hook spins Sub-Mariner full around. Her subsequent haymaker punches Poseidon half-way to the sewers. The original Invader imprints deep into a concrete wall. Nekra's knuckles bleed and bloat on her broken hand, but she grins with great gratification. The supervillain sprints for the station platform. Ms. Sinclair catches a train, and the lethal lady lasts for another day.

Back on Bleeker Street, Baron Mordo is momentarily dazed after his big spell banishing the Sanctum Sanctorum's defenses. The Baron takes a brief breather before joining the Lethal Legion in their audible battle outside. He hopes that his commandeered comrades are kicking the Sorcerer Supreme's ass, and those of any allies.

Abruptly, Hellcat spooks Mordo when she susurrates sharply. "Karl, I should knock you halfway to Europe," the Cat hisses at Karl's ear.

Startled Baron Mordo spins around, throwing a sloppy errant elbow. Scrapper Patsy chops the wizard's throat to hinder any spellcasting. Walker's kick nearly knocks the baddie from the blown-out loft. It nearly sends him tumbling into open space as he did her.

Hellcat grins, "I should to kick you halfway to Europe. And, my friend can take you the rest of the way."

From nowhere, Devil-Slayer seizes Baron Mordo and drags the scoundrel (by the cape) into his Shadow-Cloak. "You know, Greenland is always a cool place, especially in December," the superman states, "Let's take you to the North Pole for St. Nick's Day."

And, they are gone.


End file.
